She Dreams in Ink
by ReadBetweenMyLines
Summary: She thought everything was over. She thought it was going to be okay, like everyone had told her- that it was just a bad dream. It turns out she was wrong. And now he's back.
1. Drip, Drip, Drip, Drop

_Drip, drip, drip. Drop._

Water drips lightly from the tub's silver tap.

_Drip, drip, drip. Drop._

Her eyes are closed and she relaxes, feeling the cool porcelain against her neck. The water isn't hot, but nor is it too cold. It is just right and she loves it. A relaxed sigh escapes her lips.

She does not dwell on the fact that she doesn't remember how she came to be here- wherever 'here' is.

She only thinks of the rising steam caressing her face.

_Drip, drip, drip. Drop._

The sound of the water, though before so miniscule, becomes annoying. Is it her imagination, or is it becoming louder?

She thinks, _I need to shut the faucet off. I really should._ But the tub is so very comfortable, she doesn't want to move at all.

_Drip, drip, drip. Drop._

She lays, her eyes still shut, and she is still contemplating sitting up to shut off the faucet. Perhaps she could just lift her leg and use her foot?

_No,_ she decides. _Using my foot is just more work. I'll just sit up for a moment and shut off the water. Then I can lay back and relax again._

_Drip, drip, drip. Drop._

She sits up and, her eyes still closed, and feels for the metal handle. After a minute or so of blind reaching her fingers close around the handle in question, and she shuts the faucet completely off.

_Drip, drip, dri-_

It stops.

She smiles a big, satisfied smile and opens her eyes to view her accomplishment.

It takes her a few seconds to notice that the tub isn't filled with water. Slowly, she cups her hand, dips it into the water, and brings the liquid closer to her to inspect it.

Immediately, and with a sudden realization, she drops the liquid from her hand, and grips she sides of the bath, desperate to get out now.

The tub is filled with ink. Black, heavy ink that stains her skin black and the tub black and everything it touches, the deepest, darkest and most empty black she can imagine, tainting it all forever.

And there is so_ much_ of it.

She feels sick, thinking of all of that ink, touching her, turning her skin a cruel, sickly shade of onyx.

From the faucet bursts even more ink, so black it shines purple. She scrambles to stand, to get out, run, and never look back. But she can't. She is glued, it seems, to the porcelain prison in which she sits, held down by invisible chains. At first she suspects someone has put a Body Bind curse on her, but she knows there is no one else in the room.

_Is this a room? Where am I?_ She thinks.

For a moment she forgets her fear and turns her head to survey her surroundings. The first thing she notices is the lack of color. Everything is white. The blank floor and walls and the tub (for that is all that sits in the eggshell room) are all completely and only white. The only shading is the dark ink in the bath tub.

She returns her attention to the horror at hand.

The ink in the tub is rising now, spilling over the edge of the bath, causing it to overflow. And the ink covers the floor, and the floor turns black and she is so, so scared.

The black floor rises, feeding from the waterfall of black spilling from the tub. And everything in the room is turning black with ink and she is so, so _scared. _She struggles even more. It is in vein. The more she struggles to stand, kneel, move, _something,_ the tighter the invisible chains around her become.

Suddenly she feels something wrap around her ankle and before she can even react, she is being pulled into the tub, which is now as deep as an ocean.

She can't breath. But somehow she can see. And yet, she sees nothing. Nothing except her own body, naked and tense with panic. As if anything could get any worse she notices what is dragging her down, and what was probably stopping her from moving.

Large, green snakes are wrapped around her arms, wrists, ankles, and waist. She opens her mouth to scream, but nothing comes out. Whether it is because she is silenced by fear or because she can not breath, she doesn't know or care.

Suddenly, as if a spell is broken, the snakes pause and stop completely. After several seconds the slowly uncoil their tails from her body and release her. She is free. Not caring why she was set free from the snakes' grasp, she immediately swims for the surface of the tub.

Finally after kicking and reaching for- what? Minutes? Hours? Days, even?- her head breaks the surface of the tub and the ink is all over her now, in her skin, in her eyes, her mouth, and hair. It seeps into every last pore on her body and she is sick, so sick. She takes the deepest breath she has ever taken.

And she screams. She screams the most vile and the most beautiful thing to leave her inky lips.

"Tom," She screams. "Tom!"

A thousand times, over and over again, she screams it.

_"Tom!"_

***

Around two A.M., in the smallest room of a crooked, seven-story-high country home near St. Ottery Catchpole, Ginny Weasley bolts straight up from her bed, panting and crying. She repeatedly attempts to calm down, but fails every time.

Her mother, Molly, burst into the room. Her hair is done up in slightly-askew curlers, and she is in the middle of pulling her wand from her bright pink bathrobe pocket, ready to fight off any evils that may dare to threaten her youngest child and only daughter. Seeing Ginny in her bed, weeping, she puts her wand back into her robe and hurries to embrace her, her arms ready to be Ginny's shield from all of her darkest fears.

***

**Wow. I kid you not, I started this at two thirty in the morning on new years day simply because I couldn't sleep. Now it's one thirty a day later(only because I promised I wouldn't submit it under one thousand words), and I'm done! Yay! **

**Initially, this is a one shot. But I may expand. I sort of want to. But I now have…I think four unfinished stories on the table, and To Marry a Death Eater is my biggest priority right now. Honest, I haven't even thought about the others for almost three months, I am just so wrapped in that story. And I PROMISED myself I wouldn't do that. I said to myself, I said, "Gina- now, girl no matter WHAT pops into your big ole' head you NEED to finish that story before you post ANYTHING else." And, like I knew would happen, I posted the Tara fic then the other…and the other. And now I'm up to the proverbial **_**here **_**in chapters. Damn. Oh, well. **

**Happy Whatever You Celebrate!**

**READ. **


	2. Once Upon A Dream

"_I know you, _

_I walked with you once upon a dream,_

_I know you, _

_The gleam in your eyes is so familiar a gleam,"_

Ginny sings the sweet song from the Muggle 'moo-vee', _Sleeping Beauty, _Hermione had shown her two Christmases ago. As she sings she works outside, hanging laundry by hand and wishing she were a year in the future, at the age of seventeen, so she could magic it all dry. But all the same, she enjoys the time she has to herself, away from bickering brothers and preaching mothers.

"_Yet I know its true, _

_That visions are seldom as they seem,_

_But if I know you I know what you'll do,_

_You'll love me at once, _

_The way you did once upon a dream"_

She hangs and pins yet another garment on the clothes line, singing and humming to herself as she works. She bends down picks up another piece of clothing from the basket at her feet and repeats the action.

The dream that plagued her almost a week ago is far from her mind as she works sings.

She finishes pinning up the last of the basket's contents and steps back, checking over her work. Feeling wholly satisfied with it, she picks the empty wicker-basket up, drops it in the house, and makes her way back outside.

***

She smiles, feeling the sun's warm rays on her face, and makes her way over to a particularly large oak tree with a wooden swing hanging from the thickest branch by two fraying pieces of rope. She does a twirl or two on her way to the aging tree and swing, thinking over what a good day it had been.

She woke that morning in a wonderful mood, had a marvelous breakfast of eggs, bacon, and porridge (Compliments of Mum), and then, as if things couldn't have gotten better, all of her brothers had business that would keep them out all of the day.

She has the Burrow to herself now, as her father is at work and her mum is running errands at the moment.

She feels like she has swallowed an entire vile of Liquid Luck.

She sits down on the wooden plank and swings lightly, kicking her legs and watching the large white clouds drift in the sky.

***

"Ginny," she hears her voice being called from the kitchen and sighs a deep, heavy sigh. Her family is home.

"Coming," she calls back, and with great effort, lifts herself from the swing's wooden seat and makes her way up to the Burrow.

***

The first thing Ginny sees, entering the back kitchen entrance, is her mother bustling about the small kitchen, moving old and worn pots and pans, looking as though she were preparing dinner for twenty people instead of six. Her mother ushers her immediately to sit at the table, where Ron and the twins, Fred and George, were arguing over Quidditch.

"I'm telling you, Waypley is taking the Wooden Wallabies to the top," Ron says to his brothers.

" Shut your mouth," the twins chorus.

"Hush now, boys," Molly scolds lightly from behind Ginny. "Your father'll be home any minute."

As if on cue, Ginny sees, through the open door near her, one hands on the odd clock that sits in the sitting room move. The hand marked 'Arthur' with a small picture of her father is moving slowly from 'Traveling' to 'Home'. Not a minute later, a burst of green flames erupt in the sitting room fireplace and Arthur Weasley steps through, the green flames licking at his clothing and skin.

"Hullo. Everybody," Arthur calls. He is answered by great shouts of 'Hullo', 'Where you been, Dad?', and 'Arthur, welcome home!' from the occupants of the kitchen. He rushes into the afore mentioned room and sits at the head of the long table after pecking his wife on the cheek. He then tells everybody about every aspect of his day at the Ministry; all about whose cubicle was set aflame, how So-and-So Splinched herself on her way to work, leaving her right foot behind, and when he was completely accosted by the head of his department and blamed for the rampaging Muggle children's toy that was enchanted to bite hands and breathe fire. "You enchant a Ford Anglia _one_ time- _one!_- and all of a sudden…" he was interrupted by many bouts of laughter, Ginny's not excluded.

The house is small and warm and homey and absolutely _perfect _right now and Ginny loves it.

"Alright," Mrs. Weasley calls, "Dinner's on," and six large plates, all piled high with meats, vegetables, potatoes, and rolls, levitate themselves onto the table, guided by Mrs. Weasley's wand. Everyone smiles become just a little bit wider at the sight of the delicious cooking placed in front of them, and they start to pile their plates high with food.

***

Dinner is all said and done now, and the dishes are being cleared by Ginny (As it is her turn tonight) as Mr. and Mrs. Weasley chat at the table, and her brothers are back into a heated argument over Quidditch. Ginny sings the Muggle tune from the 'moo-vee' once again under her breath as she moves the dishes from the table to the sink.

"_I know you,_

_I walked with you once upon a dream,"_

She takes another dish, riddled with scraps of food and crumbs, from the table.

"_I know you,_

_The gleam in your eyes is so familiar a gleam,"_

And another. She smiles at her parents.

"_Yet I know its true,_

_That visions are seldom as they seem,"_

And another. She giggles at Fred when he mimes choking Ron.

"_But if I know you,_

_I know what you'll do," _

She takes the last dish few remaining dishes and piles them into her arms.

"_You'll love me at once,_

_The way you did once upon a dre-"_

_Crash! _The dishes in Ginny's arms fall to the floor, scattering glass and food everywhere. She stares at a spot on the table, her mouth open in horror, in a scream that will never come. Her eyes are wide with fear as she looks on at the table.

There, resting on the table is a black book. A black book that, although it is closed, Ginny knows has no words in it. She knows this because it is not just any book sitting on her kitchen table. It is a small black book with horribly ugly golden words inscribed on the front that read:

'_Tom Marvolo Riddle.'_

It is Tom's diary, _his _diary, that _sits on her kitchen table, in her home, dirty and filthy and covered in ink, so much ink, dripping from every page, and it is laughing at her, it is, and-_

"Ginny!" a far away voice calls, snapping her from the horrific scene before her. It is her mother, her mother Molly Weasley, who is there and is worried for her daughter. The rest of the family stares on at Ginny in shock. "Ginny, darling, what's the matter?" her mother's tone is gentle and loving and worried and not scared at all, like Ginny's would be if she could speak at all.

'"_What's wrong?"' _Ginny thinks. _'Can't she see it? Can't she-" _but she can't. She can't because Ginny looks back for _it _and _it_ isn't there and she doesn't think _it _ever was. Ginny looks all around her. What _is _there is broken plate shards all around her.

"Nothing, Mum," Ginny answers, regaining her voice. She must pretend. She must not worry anyone. It is just her imagination. "Just…thought I saw a rat is all."

**A/N: **Ha HA! You thought I wouldn't do it, but I DID! I updated and its NOT a one-shot, and I LOVE writing this story. Thanks to all the reviewers, **NovemberDreamer, DiagonAlleyParis**, and **springawakening1894.** And to all those who read and added the story to their Watch List or Favorites! Loves to you all! Updates to come soon, God of Quill and Ink willing!


	3. Not a Dream

She sits in her room, on her small, little-girl-pink bed and waits; waits for it to pass, because she knows that it will. It must. It must because if it doesn't she doesn't know what will happen, what she will do. She knows it is only her imagination and it will go away. It must.

Ginny does her best to ignore the large, scaly green snake in the corner of her room that wasn't there ten minutes ago and is hissing at her and bearing its fangs.

She looks away from it, shuts her eyes tight, and covers her ears.

_It _will_ go away. It must. _

***

Her family is acting strange. Her brothers won't look her in the eye and neither will her father. Her mother only looks at her with a sort of anxious worry and Ginny knows they know. They may not know _what _is wrong but they do know that _something _is wrong with her and it scares her. It scares her even more than the dream or the diary or the snake because what if they leave her alone? What if they leave her in an empty room and then there will be nothing but her and the things she sees, alone? And then she will go mad.

Although it is once again her turn to put away the dishes, her mother volunteers to do it for her. Ginny knows it is not because her mother thinks she needs rest. And so does her mother. So Ginny goes to bed early, feigning fatigue.

Her family gives her a shaky "Good night", but otherwise ignores her.

As Ginny climbs the stairs to the second floor of the house she passes moving photos of her and her family. Her mother and father getting married. Her mother pregnant with the twins while Bill, Charlie, and Percy stare at her large stomach in wonder, asking how it got to be so large. Bill with a particularly large Irish Hook Tail dragon. Her and the twins playing with her first ever _Zonko's_ product (Also her first ever present from Fred and George when they went away to Hogwarts).

She smiles as she watches bright blue sparks come from the small toy unicorn's horn, making the younger version of herself clap and smile. She was ten in that photo, eight months away from her first year at Hogwarts.

Ginny continues up the stairs.

***

_Soft, warm, and cozy. _This is what her bed feels like, Ginny thinks as she lays under the covers. She lays in her bed and watches everything going on outside her window. The sun is getting lower and lower in the sky, the same large tree she sat in not too long ago sways in the evening breeze.

Seconds pass.

The sun becomes lower.

Ginny yawns. Her eyelids close, and everything goes dark.

***

"_Wake up, Ginevra," _a small voice whispers. _"Wake up."_

Ginny's eyes fly open and she bolts up straight, silent. She looks around her room, searching for the source of the soft and strangely familiar voice and its source.

"Just my imagination," she whispers to herself.

It is pitch black outside, she can not even see the old tree.

_Crash!_

A small glass figurine is thrown from her dresser by an invisible force, making Ginny jump in surprise. She squeezes her eyes shut and her hands fly to her ears.

_No, no, no, no._

And there she sits. A minute passes. Five minutes. Ten. Fifteen. She sits, her eyes and ears blocking out everything. After such a long time that Ginny couldn't even keep track, she slowly lowers her hands from her ears and, even slower, opens her eyes.

And screams. She screams as loud as her body would allow, but for naught, as hands, large boys hands, cover her mouth. Her eyes move upward, meeting steel grey ones.

Tom Riddle is standing over her and holding her mouth shut.

_No, no, no!_

And she is staring up at him, scared and shaking.

_It's a dream, a dream. Just imagination! No ones there, no one!_

And as if a tightly wound coil is suddenly let loose, she begins to flail, her arms hitting him and her nails trying to scratch him; her legs are kicking and flying but nothing works and he's _still there, why won't he go away, why won't-_

And he speaks. And his words fall from his handsome mouth like liquid silver. Ginny stops, and is so still it is as if she is petrified. She listens.

"Ginevra," her name. That is what he says first; her name. But Ginny doesn't recognize it as her name, just as one of the many words that fall from his mouth and he isn't speaking, not really, not to her. He is speaking to a little girl with a diary and a trusting heart, comforting her like a child. Like he did many years ago when the world was new and amazing and when Tom Riddle was an angle from heaven, sent to love and comfort Ginny. Now he is a demon, sent to torment her with his mere presence. But Tom cares not for Ginny's current opinion of him. He only quiets her, one hand still clasped tightly to her mouth and the other is now stroking her hair. "Hush, hush, Ginny. It is all right. It isn't a dream. Calm now," over and over he says these things. "Hush, little Ginny, all is fine. I won't hurt you. I promise," over and over and _over _for what seemed like hours on end until finally, Ginny quiets, doesn't scream, and her hands unclasp from his wrist and her eyes relax and are not so wide, though they still plainly show fright.

"Now," he says, and his eyes, just for a moment, show relief. "I'm going to let go of you, Ginevra. And you will be quiet and listen to me, do you understand?"

Ginny nods, and can only hope that if she does what he wants he will leave and never return.

He slowly backs away and finally, _finally _releases his hand from her mouth. She does not scream. She knows now that it is real and he is there. Tears begin to run down her face.

"What are you doing here, Tom? Please, please don't stay, leave, you have to! I won't do any of those things anymore, I won't, please leave. I'll tell, I will, and they'll find a way to-" he cuts her off, his voice harsh.

"Tell? Who will you tell? Who will believe?"

She answers, her voice laced with desperation. "Harry, Harry will believe me, he knows, he knows all about you Tom and he will-" again she is interrupted, this time he laughs at her.

"Harry Potter? Harry Potter, who believes he killed my memory off forever, who saw to my "demise" with his own two hands? He won't believe you, silly Ginevra. No one will," Ginny tries to speak above him, to tell him he's wrong, but he continues as if she had not said a word. "Not your family, who have seen your mind slowly unwind this past summer with visions of things that aren't there. Not the professors, who will say it is only repressed trauma of that horrid night _poor_ little Ginny endured at the tender age of eleven. Not your friends or class mates who only believe what they wish. Any spells to locate Dark magic or some sort of parasite won't detect me, Ginevra. They will all of them laugh at you and put you in the Mental Ward in St. Mungo's, locked away in a small room for the rest of your life."

Ginny stares at him in defeat, her eyes red rimmed. There is nothing she can say, because she knows it is true. They sit in silence.

"Why are you here, Tom? I thought you died, I thought you were _gone_."

He looks at her, hard and calculating. And then, as if he has just decided something with absolute finality, he says, "You really want to know, Ginevra? All right, I'll tell how I came to be here, in your mind, instead of rotting in Hell, where I'm supposed to be."

And he does.

**A/N: **Sorry, folks, but the tale comes next chapter! I know, I know, "Where's the damn romance?" But understand, good reader, that falling in love with someone who tried to kill you takes time, me non? Tell me what you think, Duckies! And thanks to chapter two reviewers, **ms Masen **and **NevemberDreamer! Love you two! :] **

Ah, my lovelies, my imagination hath been cursed with another idea! I figure I can get opinions on it before I bother writing- and since even if I do start it I want to wait a while to begin writing, so I'm just jotting it down here, 'kay? It's basically an epiphony story. But be not alarmed for it is….GINNY/DRACO! DUN DUN DUUNNN. Alright, here it is:

Ginny and Harry are engaged, and Ginny's life is…happy…ish. Like, she thinks she loves Harry, but we all know better, don't we? So one day while out on some errands at Diagon Alley, Ginny has some vaguely horrible accident(I'm thinking robbery, how about you?)! Oh NO! When she "wakes up" she's in a sort of limbo…if you define limbo as a coffee shop. There she meets the all knowing deity who all religions base their beliefs off of. That's right, ladies and gents, God, Allah, the Grecian/Roman gods, the blue chick with the six arms, and all the chi in the world- are all the same person. Who, surprisingly enough, sort of looks like a very small little six year old girl in a baby doll dress. Hm. Anyway after a chat and some muffins Ginny wakes up…again. At home. All, she believes, is normal…until she finds out that the Vaguely Not Starbucks wasn't a dream and she's in an alternate reality where she's dating Draco Malfoy who isn't a death eater and her mother doesn't know who Harry Potter is, and the people who do know him thinks he's an asshole, OHMIGAWD! And she's stuck there until that brat from mocha limbo says otherwise. Damn.


	4. The Tale

"Do you remember, little Ginevra, the day I took you down into the Chamber?" he asks her, the ghost of a reminiscent smile upon his face.

"Bits and pieces," Ginny answers faintly. She looks down at her hands and fiddles with a loose thread on her sheets. "I…I don't remember _going _to the Chamber, but I remember just before and after. One moment I'm in the first year Dormitories, the next I'm lying in a cold, wet chamber with a blood-soaked Harry Potter standing over me, already half dead. No one's ever told me what happened, really."

"Well," Tom says. "I shall." Ginny moves to sit cross-legged, still partly under the sheets. When Tom walks over and sits on the edge of her bed, her body tenses and she moves back, ever so slightly. Tom pays her no mind, and begins to spin his tale.

"After you left the staff at Hogwarts the message of your imminent death and you were down in the chamber, I began to, for lack of words, suck the life right out of you. Bit by bit your soul was fading from you, to me," Ginny scoots back even more, and her back hits the headboard of her bed. Again, Tom pays no attention to her discomfort and continues. "Just as you were reaching the brink of death, who should stumble into my sanctum but your precious boy wonder, Harry Potter. He didn't see me at first, as I was looming in the shadows. Oh, I remember his face. Ran straight for you and shook you very hard, it was really rather rude. At this time I revealed myself to him. His wand was long discarded, and I just happened to pick it up. When I refused to give it back, all became revealed. Then Dumbledore's silly song bird…Filks or Forks or something, came in and dropped the Sorting Hat, yes the _Sorting Hat_, right there. Of course I found it ridiculous. Then Potter, he said some rather obnoxious things about Dumbledore being a better Wizard than I and I set the Basilisk on him. Oh, and that dreaded bird of Dumbledore's just had to come in and blind my poor basilisk. Not much after that for a bit really. A bit of cat and mouse between Potter and the basilisk. You were still on the ground, oblivious to everything around you and getting paler by the minute. Anyway, by some amount of enormous luck, Gryffindor's sword pops right out of the Sorting hat when Potter was in a tight scrape. He killed my basilisk. I was, I admit, a bit over confident, even after that, and didn't notice the phoenix. I thought I had won because he had a rather fatal wound. My ego blinded my memory, and I had forgotten until it was too late that phoenix tears could heal virtually any wound. Potter took the basilisk fang that gave him that fatal injury and stabbed the diary. So I lost.

"But that is not where the tale ends, dear Ginevra. You see, by some wisp of a miracle, a small bit of the already fraction of soul that was within the diary somehow survived. Even I do not know how, but it did. Then, as was its natural instinct, it looked for something to attach to. I'm not completely sure how or why, but it attached itself to you. It could have been our previous connection, or it could have been how weak you were, or maybe even because you were already absorbing the lost bits of your soul, so mine would be able to slip in unnoticed. I don't know. But slip in it did, and there I sat. I think I couldn't absorb anything from you anymore, because your energy was crucial for me to "live", so if you became weak there was a chance of me ceasing to exist. So, and this is just hypothesis, mind you, I built up my own energy. It took years for me just to be able to be aware of your surroundings. I believe it was your late fourth year I was first, ah, conscious."

Ginny stares at his face, her eyes wide. So he was _inside_ her? The very thought sickens her. "And… and there's no way to reverse this?" she says in a faint whisper. Already visions of a future with Tom Riddle inside her forever dance through her head. She pales. The distinct taste of vomit sits at the back of her throat.

At this Tom's face…didn't _brighten _exactly, but was lit with a strange expression that wasn't quite glee. "Ah, and here is the part we've all been waiting for. The answer, Ginevra, is this: possibly. You see, while I sat idle in your mind, there wasn't much to do. I either observed you or thought. Mostly I thought, though. Funny, how when one has little else to do but think, they seem to go over every memory they posses. And one memory, in particular, stuck out to me. When reading through the Restricted Section one day, in the very book, in fact, that taught me about transferring my soul to the diary, I remember reading something about soul and body reformation. What," he laughs at look of slight relief on Ginny's face. "do you think I want to be here, stuck in the mind of a little girl, while Lord Voldemort, or rather, I, should be conquering the Wizarding world? Oh, no, little Ginevra, I am just as anxious to be free of you as you are of me."

"Well then, where can we find another copy of this book?" Ginny asks, her voice trimmed with bits of exhaustion, anger, and fear.

"'Another copy'?" Tom looks at her, his lips pulled back in a condescending sneer. "Ginevra, that text was as Dark as it comes, there are no _copies. _It rests solely in the Restricted Section of Hogwarts Library, where you shall be returning very soon, I understand."

Hogwarts. Yes. She'd almost forgotten that she'll be returning there in only a month and a half for her sixth year, as the schools repairs had been finished. Her brother, Harry, and Hermione would be going as well for their final year, seeing as the previous year they were off defeating Lord Voldemort and more than half the school didn't attend Hogwarts because of their heritage. Those who did attend either didn't stay very long, or didn't learn very much.

"When you return to Hogwarts, you will get a teacher- one of the more incompetent ones- to sign a note allowing you into the restricted section. I, of course, will assist you with that. After we have located the text, we will simply carry out the spell or potion needed and then you will be rid of me and I shall have my own body back."

Ginny's head snaps up. "And what makes you think I'll do it, Tom? I'd have to be insane to bring another Dark Lord into the world!" she glares at him, her fear forgotten for the time being.

"Really, Ginevra, you're scared witless of me. You'll do anything I tell you to, and we both know why. You're scared to live with the evil Lord Voldemort whispering in your ear for the rest of your life; scared that they'll throw you in the Mental Ward in St. Mungo's and leave you there forever. Because they'll forget about you, won't they? Then you'll have no one but me. Oh, I'm sure they'll visit for a while, bring you presents and such, but the visits will become few and far in between as time goes on, and then they'll cease completely. No one will remember you, not even that Potter of yours," her glare falters at this. He knows about her and Harry? " Didn't think I knew that you still hold feelings for him did you, or that he may hold some for you, still? Well, Ginevra, I know everything about you. And don't think I won't use that to my full advantage." his confident smirk is spread broadly across his handsome features, and Ginny wishes she could punch him.

She looks down in defeat. "Alright. Fine. I'll do it. But you must promise you'll never bother me again, Tom, you have to-" but Tom is gone, now. He is somewhere in the dark recesses of Ginny's mind, planning and laughing to himself at poor little Ginny's sorrow.

She lays back down, and cries silently to sleep.

**A/N: Oh, JEEBUS! Sorry its been so long, I'm in a bit of a slump, as you can tell… anyway, guess what? I finally have a Twitter and Face book that I USE. Whoa! Anyway, I'm putting the links to said Face books and Twitters in my home page, so if anyone wants to friend/follow me or visa versa, they CAN now! YAY! : - ) **

**PS: IT'S MY BIRTHDAY ON THE FIFTH OF MARCH! :D **


	5. The Truce? and Invisible Literature

"Diagon Alley!"

_Whoosh. _

With a great sweep of green flames, Molly Weasley disappears from the Weasley household's fire place. Ginny blinks a few times, her eyes readjust to the light. She stares at the spot where her mother was just standing. '_School starts in just a few days,' _she thinks. '_Has time really pasted so quickly?'_

She takes a handful of the odd powder on the mantle piece, steps into the fire place (Making sure to tuck in her elbows) and throws the powder down, screaming, _"Diagon Alley!" _and the next thing she knows, she's standing in a fireplace in a very crowded _Eyelop's Owl Emporium_. Nodding to the shop keeper briefly, Ginny weaves her way around many excited eleven year olds and their parents and steps outside to find her mother and Ron.

Diagon Alley, ever full with bustling customers, is bright and warm. Ginny's heart warms a bit at the familiar sight of people running everywhere at all speeds to go to _Olivander's_ to buy their first wand, to reach _Madame Malkin's _to buy new robes to replace the old ones that only just cover their ankles now, or simply heading off to have a bit of Enchanted Chocolate Chip ice cream with Flaming Fudge on top at _Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour. _

"Gin!" she hears a familiar voice call out. Ginny turns to see her brother, Ron's, head poking out of _Flourish and Blott's. _"Gin, come on, we're buying our books first, then its off to _Malkin's _for a fitting," Ron bellows.

"Coming!" Ginny calls, rushing towards the old book shop.

Stepping through the ornate entrance, Ginny catches her mum's eye and motions to her that she was going off to find her books. With her mother's hasty permission, Ginny begins to browse through the shelves and rows and piles of books.

_How to Train Your Hippogriff? No. Your Wrackspurt and You? Nope. Predicting the Unpredictable: Insulate Yourself against Shocks? Definitely not. _Ginny scans the shelves, searching for a copy of the Year Seven Potions book that was first on her list. _Oh! Potions, Year Seven! There you are! _With a triumphant smile, Ginny takes the book from the shelf and inspects it's second-hand binding.

"Well, well, well, Ginevra. Doing some shopping are we?" a dark voice rings out from the left of her. Ginny stifles a squeak and fumbles, dropping the book. She turns to see Tom leaning against the wall not far from her.

"T-Tom," she stutters. Her voice lowers to a whisper. "What are you _doing_ here?"

"Well, you're here, aren't you?" he says to her snidely. "And where you go, I go. Or did you forget that little nugget of information?"

Ginny's cheeks, to her horror, color with embarrassment. "Well, I know that, but… I mean, _why_ are you here? There are people around, I can't be seen talking to myself. Again."

"Oh, I just wanted to check on you. See how the school things were going. And besides," Ginny sees Tom's smirk broaden, radiating pure narcissism. "Shouldn't I be aloud to stretch my legs once and a while?"

Ginny's tone is infused with anger. "You don't have any _real _legs, or the need for physical exercise!"

"Details, Ginevra, details."

Ginny glares. "Please, Tom, leave."

Tom's smirk falls from his face, and his eyes darken just a shade or two. "No," he says slowly. "No, Ginevra, I don't think I will."

With a small "rah!" of repressed anger, Ginny turns on her heel and walks the opposite way, up a set of stairs. She slows her pace once she's safely on the second floor and surrounded by a sea of books. Looking for a distraction, she begins to look through the piles and shelves of books. Running her fingers along the hard spines as she reads the sideways titles, she ignores the figure of a dark haired boy behind her- always following her but somehow never moving.

"Ginny, dear," she hears her mother call. "Are you quite ready to go?"

"Sure, Mum, just a second!" Ginny calls down from the second story, to her mother who is craning her neck to see her. As she moves for the set of stairs, she feels something solid hit her around her knees, and falls to the ground.

"What in the name of Merlin's old trousers…" she looks back to see what she's tripped over, but finds nothing. Ginny slowly moves her hands in front of her, knowing she hadn't stumbled over a flat surface. _Not this time, anyway. _She thinks. Curiously, her hand hits something, and feels it topple over. "A pile of books," she exclaims. "Invisible books!"

She hears a deep chuckle of amusement from behind her.

Ginny spins around and finally acknowledges Tom.

"Tom, I-"

"You know, Ginevra," he cuts her off abruptly. "I was thinking… we should form a truce."

Ginny stares for a second. "A truce…" she repeats him, slightly confused.

"Well, yes. After all we shall be working together rather closely for the next… well, I'd wager at least three months. Why be so hostile towards each other? I see no reason."

She hesitates.

He gives a sigh of exasperation. "Ginevra, really. Our behaviors have been childish. And I tire of having no company other than myself. Do you know, I haven't even been able to pick up a book for the longest time? You see, I'm not asking much, just a healthy conversation once every long while and the turn of a page or two. You'll be rid of me, and I of you, soon enough anyway. Why not make the time go a bit faster?"

Ginny thinks of plenty of reasons to never even look at him unless absolutely necessary. But then she looks into his eyes, his eyes which she knows probably don't really hold the sorrow and kindness they're showing now, and sees the Tom she knew when she was eleven.

"_You're in your first year? How interesting. You must love the castle."_

"_Oh, Ginny, its not so bad, you see? I'm your friend, you know. You're not alone."_

"_Don't be sad, Ginny. Potions isn't so hard. Would you like me to help you?"_

"_There, there, Ginny…"_

"_Don't cry, Ginny…"_

"_He'll notice you soon, Ginny…"_

"_I love you, Ginny…" _

_And his eyes, they do look sincere, don't they? _Ginny thinks._ And it's only for a little while. After we're separated, Harry and the others can handle him, I'm sure… _And just like that, Ginny finds herself making a pact with Beelzebub himself. "Alright, fine. Truce."

_**Ayyyyye, Jeezu. Sorry it took so long, folks. I would tell you that I've been immersed in school work and what not, that I've been sick and so has everyone else…but that would be a COMPLETE lie. I tell you, man, that Kingdome Hearts game can REALLY suck a girl into the ZONE, you know? Any wayy… How've you all been? **_

_**Oh! Thanks to the reviewers for the last two chapters, **_**KooleyKid **_**and **_**NovemberDreamer **_**(Not sure if I answered this, but he's real, for the most part. But if you read (red? Damn English language…) the next chapter, you'd figured…getting off track) and Four's reviewers **_**insanity75, seriana14, Madridista, **_**and **_**Hydra27. **


	6. Bed Time Thrills? Not Quite So

_Today is… boring,_ Ginny thinks to herself as she packs for Hogwarts.

She checks her open dresser and, after much deliberation, pulls out a green shirt, two pairs of jeans and a knitted hat with Gryffindor stripes coloring it. She stuffs them into her case, which is already brimming with textbooks, clothing, and other necessities.

"Ginevra," Tom calls from the corner of her room. His eyes are trained on a large, leather-bound book propped up on a stool. "Turn this page, will you?"

This is what it has been like ever since Ginny arrived home from Diagon Alley. Tom would chose a book to read and Ginny, being an actual physical being (unlike Tom), would open the book, turn the pages, and shut and reshelf it when he tired of it.

During this time, occasionally, Tom would look up and start a conversation with Ginny. Yesterday it was her views on current Wizarding politics ("Even if Gradbies _does _get the head of Magical Defense behind him, there's no _way _the Wizarding community would allow weekly searching of Wizarding shops for Dark artifacts! It's outrageous, Tom!"). And the day before it was "Where in the name of Wizarding Purebloods did you get that horrid _dress?" _which had earned him a heel to the cheek.

At least it would have been a heel to the cheek, had he been an actual, physical _person. _However, Ginny knows it's the thought that counts.

She obediently turns the page for Tom, who only nods his head in thanks, without even looking at her.

And Ginny resumes her packing.

_For having the Dark Lord and spawn of Satan sitting in my bedroom, _Ginny thinks. _It's actually a bit boring. _Tom Riddle, as hard as it is to admit, is behaving himself quit well on Ginny's standards. He was quiet, sort of, hardly ever bothered her unless she was alone and could respond, and nearly never called her a stupid little girl in the last two days. Things were becoming _peaceful _and it wasn't too bad.

"Ginny, dinner!" her mother's voice calls from down stairs.

"Coming, Mum," Ginny calls out the door. She turns back to Tom. "I'm going to dinner, alright?"

"Hm." is his only reply.

"Pass the potatoes, Gin Bug; wonderful meal, Molly." Arthur Weasley says to his wife as Ginny hands him the large plate.

Her mother's cheeks color, ever so slightly. "Oh, thank you, Arthur."

Ginny goes back to pushing the meat around her plate, only bringing the fork to her lips once or twice.

"Well, well. Isn't this cozy?" a voice drawls from beside her like black velvet. Ginny tenses and, ever so discreetly, looks over to see Tom Riddle standing next her. Ginny tries her best to not let her eyes widen or suck in her breath; she's gotten a bit better at pretending Tom isn't there, standing right to her, whispering mocking words and teasing her cruelly when her family is only a few feet away. "Another family dinner at the Weasley abode. What is it you lot call this place again, Ginevra? Oh, yes, _the Burrow. _How…charming, naming your home after a rabbits little hidey-hole."

Ginny sucks in a deep breath and tries to calm down.

"Ginny, is something wrong?" her mother asks. She's giving her that look again, like she's trying to see what Ginny sees, like she doesn't understand, like… like Ginny's mad.

"Nothing, Mum, I'm just… not feeling well is all, really. I think I'll go to bed now, thanks." And Ginny rockets out of the room and up the stairs to her bedroom before anyone can say anything.

Ginny's door shuts with a small _'click'_.

"Why did you do that, Tom?" she asks, not turning around. She knows he is there because he is _always_ there.

"Why?" Tom's smooth voice comes from behind her. "Well… because I wanted to, I suppose."

Ginny turns around and narrows her eyes. "I thought we had a deal, a _truce, _that you wouldn't do this anymore. What happened to that, Tom?"

He laughs. "Ginevra, Ginevra. Silly girl, I need to have a bit of fun, don't I? Not to mention, watching your family look at you like that- like you had a Welsh Green sticking out of the back of your head," he gives another amused chuckle. "It's too wonderful to pass up."

Hate wells up within Ginny. How dare he? She would _not_ let him do this! She would go downstairs right _now,_ and…and…

And what? Tell her family that Lord Voldemort, who was been killed _months _ago by Harry himself, was taking up residence inside her head?

"I'm not going to speak to you again, Tom." Ginny says briefly to him in a sort of cold anger, and then turns her back to him as she prepares for bed. She is silent.

Tom tsk-tsks. "Ginevra, come now. We both know you can't simply _ignore _me."

Ginny pulls back her bed's covers. She is still silent. She does not look at Tom.

Tom's eyes narrow and he takes a deep breath. Ginny knows he's becoming more and more aggravated and that isn't a good thing, but she continues to ignore him; he had crossed the line during dinner. Ginny doesn't care if it takes years to perfect but she is set on _never_ acknowledging Tom Riddle again.

"Ginevra I suggest you answer me, _now._"

Ginny turns her head away from Tom and pulls the covers up to her neck. She closes her eyes.

Tom lets out a small yell of frustration and a stray book that's lying on the dresser flies across the room. Ginny tenses as it hits the wall above her head.

"_Ginevra!" _The sound of another object hitting the wall accompanies Tom's yelling. Ginny opens her eyes just long enough to see her wooden Muggle garden gnome fall to the floor. She shuts her eyes tight again. Papers fly off the nightstand and scatter on the floor. Ginny hears the rip of her favorite Twisted Sisters poster being ripped from the wall.

Ginny pulls her blanket over her head and squeezes her eyes shut. She doesn't make a sound, but she can hear her heart beating loudly in her throat, and she's sure Tom can, too. A stray something or other strikes Ginny in the back and she gives out a small yelp, but shuts her mouth tight.

She hears nothing but crashing and slamming and ripping and throwing _on _and _on _for who knows how long and then-

Ginny hears her bedroom door open and her mother, father, and brothers run in. Tom drops the lamp he had in mid-air and it fell to the floor with a _crash! _

"What in the name of Merlin's beard _happened, _Ginny?" Ron exclaimed, his eyes wide. The rest of her family stares on, the same question in their eyes.

"N-nothing," Ginny stammers. "I just…had a bad dream. I guess my Magic acted up…Sorry."

"Alright, you lot," Arthur motions to his sons. "Back to bed with you." And her brothers reluctantly returned to their beds, looking over their shoulders at Ginny, still staring.

"Ginny, dear," her mother starts. "You know we love you. We're worried about you. We-"

"Mum, I'm fine," Ginny cuts her off. "Really, I am. This-" she motions to the mess of broken items and ripped papers. "Was an accident, I swear. Just me getting all worked up in my sleep."

"Well, alright, dear." Her mother says. "But if there's anything wrong, _anything-"_

"I'll go to you and Dad first. I know." Ginny gives them a smile. _If only I could, Mum… You don't know what it's been like and you wouldn't understand… or believe. _

"Well, good." Her father says a bit loudly. He pulls out his wand and holds it in mid air for a moment, looking confused. "Molly," he turns to his wife. "What's that spell again? You know the one."

Her mother gently moves her husband to the side and waves her wand in the air, reciting _"Abstergo!"_ Everything in Ginny's room raises itself into the air; the broken pieces of glass come back together to form her figurines and vases. The papers repair themselves and stack themselves neatly into a pile one her nightstand. Her Twisted Sister poster rises from the floor and sticks itself to the wall again.

"Good night, Ginny." Her mother says softly, lowering her wand.

"G'night, Gin Bug." Her dad smiles gently. "We love you."

"G'night, Mum, Dad." Ginny calls. "Love you, too."

Her parents shut out her light and slowly close the door, encasing Ginny in darkness.

**A/N**: Gah! More build up. Boring, boring, boring, _mei non?_ Well, fear not, my little duckies, for next chapter we finally get aboard Hogwarts Express and, perhaps, even to the lovely castle itself! Huzzah! Possibly even, le gasp, PLOT? I know, plot points have been few and far between.

I'd like to thank all the reviewers for Chapter 5, **nyxera, emma88, Seriana14, insanity75, **and **SoftlySpokenHeart! **And, re-reading my last Authors' Note…I misspelled _kingdom. _*sigh* Really, self? KINGDOM? WHY? I was being all fancy adding that 'e' at the end. :/ I'm a weirdo.


	7. Blackmail and Return to the Battlefield

There are so many people all around her, boarding large, sleek Muggle trains. Everyone is rushing in all directions holding children, bags, animals, brief cases, and folders.

Ginny feels strangely melancholy. She watches on as Ron and her parents dash for the wall between platforms nine and ten.

_Deep breath, _she thinks, after there is no sign left that her family ever stood in the station. _And…run. _

She takes her first step, and then another, her speed building with each and every second until she is in a full blown sprint. Her eyes closed, Ginny attempts to focusing on just getting through the gateway, into Platform 9 ¾.

_Run. _

The wheels on the trolley rattle, and her luggage shakes against the straps securing it.

_Run. _

And for just a split second everything is silenced. She sees nothing, hears nothing, and_ feels _nothing; it is as if time itself has frozen. Then, just as it has for the last seven years, the silence is cut with a loud whistle and Ginny opens her eyes.

A familiar large red steam engine with the words "Hogwarts Express" printed neatly on the front stares back at her. With a small smile, Ginny weaves through the hoards of witches and wizards and goes to board the train for the last time.

Ginny hasn't really thought about it, but she sees all too well now that it _is_ her last year at Hogwarts. As her brother jumps out of one of the car doors to help her load her trunk onto the train (her mother in the background, blowing her nose woefully into a ratty, old handkerchief), Ginny thinks back to the first time she set foot on the Hogwarts Express, at age eleven.

She had been so excited, so nervous, so enthralled with everything around her at Platform 9 ¾, even though she had been there every year of her life prior to see her brothers off with her mum and dad. Everything there was new to her that year because she wasn't just a teary-eyed child waving goodbye to her brothers and chasing after the train until she couldn't keep up. This time she was a _student_, boarding the train alongside her brothers, looking for a compartment that wasn't full, discussing the teachers and classes, and then _she_ was the one waving goodbye to her mother.

But now it is Ginny's last time on the Express. As her brother leads her to their compartment, her luggage in his hands, she studies everything about the old train, just as she did when she first boarded it. The pattern on the hall rug, the style and brightness of the lights, the peeling opaque wallpaper covering the narrow path, and every scratch and scuff in between.

"This is our compartment, Gin." Ron catches Ginny's attention as she was looking studiously at a stray burn mark on the wall. He leads her into a small compartment occupied by three other people.

"Hullo Harry, Hermione, Luna." Ginny greets them with a smile as Ron shoves her luggage into the upper compartment.

"Hello, Ginny. It's good to see you again." Luna's dreamy eyes focus on Ginny for a moment before going back to wandering in the air.

Hermione nods to her in response before moving to sit next to Ron.

Ginny's eyes connect to Harry's.

"Hey...Gin," Ginny sees the blush rising to his cheeks, and her own grow warm as well. She shoots him what she hopes is a brilliant smile and takes the vacant spot next to him.

The train's whistle sounds and, as she, Ron, and Harry smile and wave to the teary eyed red headed woman waving vigorously in return, the train begins to roll away from Platform 9 ¾.

"Ron and I've got Prefect duties, so we'll see you, alright?" Hermione and Ron rush out of the compartment as soon as the train is out of the station. Not a full two minutes after they leave, the compartment door opens. Ginny looks up to see Neville Longbottom standing in the doorway.

"Hi. Sorry I'm late; I was sort of cornered by Romilda Vane. I have no idea what she wanted."

Harry busts out laughing. "Didn't take any Chocolate Cauldrons from her, did you?" Neville chuckles and takes a seat across from Luna.

As Ginny and Harry slip into conversation, Neville and Luna slowly fade into the background.

"We'll be in the same year, now, won't we?" Harry points out with a broad smile. In the beginning of the summer, along with their supply list and usual letter, Ginny and Ron had received a note informing them that they had a chance to chose whether they wished to repeat a year ( or, in Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Neville's case, graduate.) or to stay behind. Ginny chose to move to her seventh year, whereas Neville, Luna, and the Golden Trio chose to stay in their respective years. Ginny didn't know how many students had been given this chance (she suspected it was mostly members of Dumbledore's Army.), but was glad nonetheless that she was.

"Yeah, we will. So we'll have a few classes together, yeah? What're you taking?" And Harry launches off into telling Ginny about all of the classes he's taking to become an Auror, detailing about which classes were going to be easy or hard and what marks he needed to be accepted into the Auror Training Program.

"You know, Ginny, I've been thinking a lot over this summer…" Harry trails off.

"Oh, Merlin," a voice complains loudly. "Don't tell me the Boy-Who-Lived-Four-Times-Too-Many is going to confess his everlasting love for you- _again. _I may get sick."

Ginny shoots out of her seat. "Uh, I'm sorry, Harry, really, I am, but I've got to pop out for just a second." and before the black haired boy next to her can say a word, she races out of the compartment, slamming the door behind her.

"Oh, are we going to speak again?" Tom goads as Ginny silently closes the door to the empty compartment.

"I'm tired of you," Ginny says softly, looking away from Tom, who's face takes on a slight look of surprise (Probably because she spoke directly to him.) before slipping back into it's mocking mask.

"Oh, really? And we were getting along so _well, _Ginevra," he mocks her, his arms crossed and his smirk in place.

"Stuff it and listen!" Ginny's head snaps up to glare at Tom, who doesn't bother to hide his shock this time. "I'm tired of you and I'm _not_ going to be kicked about by you anymore. You're not going mess up my things, you're not going to insult me or my family, and you're not going to mess with my head with those_… things_, like before, understand?"

"Is it just me, or do you get a sense of déjà vu?" Tom chuckles. "And what will you do if I continue my way-ward ways, hm?" Tom says, matching her glare.

Ginny smiles wickedly. "When we get to Hogwarts, I'll find that book you're looking for, that one of a kind, and burn it. Shred it. Give it to the Giant Squid for lunch; anything to ruin your precious plans to pick up where Voldemort failed."

Tom's handsome features darken. "You wouldn't dare-" Ginny cuts him off.

"Try me. After all you've done, why wouldn't I?" Ginny stares Tom, whose lips have curled back into a snarl, down. After a few silent moments, he bows his head, relenting, and disappears.

Ginny returns to the compartment to see Ron and Hermione back in their seats. "Gin, where'd you go? The snack trolley just passed, I bet if you get to the next car, you'll catch-"

"Its fine, Ron. I don't want any sweets at the moment." Ginny smiles at her brother tightly. He looks disappointed at Ginny's lack of enthusiasm for eating.

Ginny slips into the same vacant seat as she did before, and can feel everyone's eyes on her as she stares at her shoes. She says nothing, and neither does anyone else.

Finally, Luna breaks the awkward silence. "Ginny," she asks airily. "Have you seen the latest article in the _Quibbler _regarding Crumple-Horned Snorkaks? Daddy almost caught a photo of one last week, but it disappeared before he could catch it." She holds up a copy of the _Quibbler,_ upside down,and Ginny wonders where it came from, as Luna's hands were quite empty when she returned.

As Luna hands Ginny a spare copy of the magazine, the mood lightens considerably.

Neville's face light up with humor, "My gran almost blew my uncle's arm off four times this summer because she thought he was a Death Eater. He doesn't apparate to the house anymore." Everyone laughs at Neville's tale, and they all try to top Neville's story with recollections of their own.

"Teddy turned himself into a duck two Thursdays ago when Andromeda and he visited. He had these funny white feathers all over him, and he grew a purple bill." Harry recalls, trying not to giggle at the thought of a feather-wrapped one-year-old Teddy Lupin.

The compartment filled with laughter.

"The castle looks like its old self again!" Ginny hears Pavarti (or is it Padma?) Patil comment in one of the near by carriages as the Hogwarts castle comes into view.

During the Final Battle, a lot of damage was done to the castle, especially the lower level. Whole walls of ancient stones were smashed in from the giants and acromantulas. Stairways were caved in. A few paintings had to take refuge in other frames until new ones could be commissioned for them. When re-construction had started that summer, no one thought it would be done in time for the next year. Now, as Ginny, along with the rest of the returned students, made her way into the castle, she could hardly tell old stone and windows from new.

"My, my; it does look fantastic in the dark, doesn't it?" Ginny doesn't have to look to know that it is Tom Riddle who is beside her. She discreetly glances to her side to see Tom sitting on the edge of the open carriage, his body still and not showing any sign of being jostled by the carriage like Ginny and her companions. His voice holds none of its previous sarcasm and maliciousness used on the train. Ginny hopes this means he will stick to his agreement this time, if only to protect the sole means he has of regaining a physical being.

"It does," Ginny whispers in return, careful not to let the others in the carriage hear her. She is silent for the remainder of the ride.

The ceiling of the Great Hall glistens with stars as bright as diamonds as Ginny takes her seat at the Gryffindor table. Tom is still beside her, not having left her side since the carriage ride.

The Sorting Ceremony passes, with an additional twelve Gryffindors, ten Hufflepuffs, thirteen Ravenclaws, and four Slytherins. Ginny amuses herself, imagining how many children hopped onto the stool begging not to be tossed into Slytherin; the house having lost a good amount of its glamour to many a snobbish pureblood child.

The feast is magnificent, the sweet potatoes, roasted chicken, and various assortments of other delicious foods being cooked to perfection by the many house elves.

Professor McGonagall- or, rather, Headmistress McGonagall- stands after the golden plates, not one holding an untouched array of foods, disappear into thin air. The hall goes silent.

"To those of you who have returned to Hogwarts, I wish to welcome you back." McGonagall's tight voice rings out. Was it Ginny's imagination, or was she hearing a hint of nerves in the new Headmistress' voice? "To our new students, I wish to welcome you to Hogwarts and I congratulate you on being sorted into your house. A great man once said, 'Happiness can be found even in the darkest of times, when only one remembers to turn on the light.' I know that this past year or so has been hard for us all. We've all lost friends and family alike, but I hope that we can use the events of the past to fuel our determination to do the best we can do, so that we may make the future as bright as possible, for ourselves and for future generations who will walk these same halls." As the Headmistress steps down, applause erupts from the hall, and, once it dies down, the prefects lead the students to their respective dormitories for a well-earned nights rest.

"Ginny," Luna's dreamy voice surprises Ginny from behind her just before she becomes caught up in the great rush of students.

"Yes, Luna?"

"Ginny, who was that peculiar boy with you?" Ginny's face freezes. She forces her mouth to remain closed and keeps her eyebrows from shooting up to her hair line. _Surely, Luna didn't see…?_

"What...what boy, Luna?" she asks hesitantly, knowing she couldn't have meant Tom.

"The one standing behind you in the Great Hall; he had a very lovely face, and wavy hair. He was looking at you rather a lot, so I assumed he was your friend. A bit odd, really that he was wearing a Slytherin uniform but not at the Slytherin table."

Ginny stares in shock at Luna as the last of the students leave through the enormous door way and the Great Hall empties.

A/N: A LITTLE BIT OF THIS MAY BE SLIGHTLY **IMPORTAT**, BUT READ ANYWAY, YEAH? Hey, everyone! Sorry it's been so long. I guess it's been a bit cause I just can't seem to make the chapters good enough anymore, so I want to spend more time on it (yet never know quite how to fix what I feel is off in each chapter.), you know? I sort of feel like as I get further into it, the quality is dropping ever so slightly- Like Global warming. Not to mention I have absolutely NO idea where I'm going with this. Suggestions?

Also, I just realized something. The story is set after the Final Battle, but in Chapter 2… Fred's alive. Yeah. I don't know if I want to go back and write him out, because if I do that could be a really good angst-y thing for Gin and everyone. And then I could always have the family excuse Gin's behavior with "her brother just died" and all. And I'm thinking I have to make the story truer to the books, but Fred _was_ my favorite twin! I wasn't really sure where I was going with the story then, cause I hadn't planned on it being more than one chapter but… good things come in small surprises…wait, that's not right…

Hm, what else…? OH! A reviewer asked me "how can Tom not turn a page, but CAN destroy a room?" Well, for anyone else who may be wondering, here it is: Tom's strength doesn't feed off Ginny's, it is his own. Therefore, if he spends a lot of energy, he must build it back up- that takes a longer time. So, if he were to use all of his energy on small things, he wouldn't have enough to keep his physical appearance or do anything, really. Like in the Bee Movie- bees don't fly everywhere 'cause it's like humans running everywhere. Tom's a bee. Anyone else picturing him as a bee, with wings and a stinger? I am.

And last, but NOT least, AT ALL, in _**ANY**_ way- Thanks to ALL the reviewers of Chapter 6: **TwinkleMae1991, seriana14, ms Masen, stewart02, Percy, Kaye, and insantiy75. **Love you guys so, so much. A LOT. But not in a stalker way…maybe. Wink.


	8. Release

"The Ravenclaw who's reading that upside down tabloid?" Tom Riddle sits across from Ginny at one of the Hogwarts library's most secluded tables. He is staring at Luna Lovegood as Ginny feigns reading _Hogwarts: a History_.

"Yes," Ginny mutter under her breath; her lips barely move as she speaks. "Luna described you perfectly: where you were standing, what you were doing, and what you looked like. I was so shocked I scarcely knew what to say to her, so I just said some nonsense about Hermione needing me and dashed off."

"_How, _though?" Tom seems so intense that Ginny can scarcely look at him. "No one else can see or hear me. The fraction of my soul is clinging to yours, it shouldn't be projecting images or anything like that to anyone but you; and wasn't she in that compartment on the train? She never said a word."

"Luna's always been more… _eccentric _than anyone I know. And I'm more concerned with if she'll tell anyone _about _seeing you than _how_ she is seeing you. I know she wouldn't do it to be malicious, but she's been known to let things slip whilst talking to her self."

"Well, just put a memory charm on her and you won't have this dilemma." Tom hisses.

"I can't," Ginny returns sharply. "Not only is magic not allowed outside of class, especially _that _kind, but Luna's my friend and a good person. I'm sure if I ask her not to mention it; she won't- without inquiring as to why- then tell me to be weary of Flying Jibble Worms."

Tom sits back in his chair, his face changing from the scrunched up position it had been in for the past quarter hour to one of mild amusement. With a slight smile on his face, he asks, "What in Salazar's name is a Flying Jibble-Worm?"

"I don't know," Ginny explains. "She wrote about them to me a few summers ago. I think they're supposed to be really rare creatures that make you sneeze when you're angry." Ginny almost feels the need to crack a smile as she sees Tom chuckle, but fights to keep her composure.

"Ginny," a voice calls. She looks from Tom, who is still shaking with chuckles, to see Hermione standing over her.

"Oh, Hermione… Hello." Ginny gives her a weak smile; she doesn't really want her to be here, not when Tom is.

"Ginny, who were you talking to just now?" Ginny wonders if it's just her imagination that implanted a suspicious tone in Hermione's voice.

"Oh, no one," Ginny says automatically. The phrase is engrained in her mind, it seems. Out of instinct, she looks to the seat in front of her; he's gone, "Just jabbering to myself."

"Oh," Hermione leans in closer to Ginny in an almost conspiratorial way. "Look, Ginny, I just wanted to ask you if something was, uh, happening."

Ginny's face scrunches in confusion. "Like what?"

"Well, for example, too much stress over exams, or-"

"Hermione, it's only the third day of school; how on earth could exams be affecting me?"

"It was just an example!" Hermione retorts. "And it doesn't have to be pertaining to school; are you having boy trouble? Are you having a spat with a frien-" _Oh. That's what this is about. She's been sent to _check _on me. _

Ginny listens as politely as she can, but anger builds up in her with every word that flies from Hermione's incredibly assuming, incredibly _large_ mouth.

"Hermione!" Ginny slams the thick, leather bound book on the table and stands abruptly, her chair scraping the floor. "I. _Am. Fine. _I'm not worried about failing an exam that is _six months_ from now, I don't have any "boy problems", I'm not in a row with anyone of my friends. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go." And as Ginny storms out of the library, she hears Hermione utter a bewildered "I was only trying to _help_," to no one in particular.

Later, Ginny has it in her mind that she needs a night alone.

"Hello, Ginny." Someone calls from behind her, making her whip around in surprise.

"Luna!" Ginny exclaims. "You gave me a fright. What are you doing here?" Ginny knows it's peculiar to ask; after all, what is _she _doing here, in the middle of the seventh floor corridor, only twenty minutes from curfew? But they both know why they're here.

"I needed a place to read the Quibbler. It's gotten rather rowdy in the common room; two boys were fighting about the origin of the Subnecto potion." Luna admits first.

"I just needed a _place_; somewhere where I don't 'accidently' bump into Hermione, Harry, or Ron." Ginny relates.

"Oh, yes. I've noticed that they're sitting with you at mealtimes, now. They didn't really do that before, did they?"

"No. No, not before. Because if they don't suspect me to be in moral peril, I'm just another fan in the crowd, watching their perfect little circle do magic tricks and save the world." Ginny says, hearing the bitterness in her voice.

"Oh. Does that have something to do with that boy?" Luna looks a Ginny with sweetly.

Ginny sees Tom slowly appearing at her side. "Luna? Can you see that boy, now?"

Tom leans forward, inspecting Luna, his cold mask firmly in place.

"Oh, no." replies Luna. "I've only seen him once or twice. I suppose I can't always see him. Is he here now?"

"Can't…? Luna, can we talk in the Room, please? This is important, and I don't want to be overheard."

Luna makes no argument as the door to the Room of Requirement appears and Ginny steps through.

Inside, the Room looks much the same as any common room; a medium sized table in the corner for studying, a window overlooking the Black Lake, and a sofa and two large, rather comfortable looking chairs circled around a blazing fire.

Ginny hears the door close behind her as she takes a seat on the maroon sofa.

"Luna, I need you to do something for me," Ginny spies Tom on the armchair to her right. "I need you never, ever to tell anyone about the boy you've seen."

"So you've seen him too?" Luna asks. "I thought, at first, that he was a Garble Hawk in disguise. They love playing tricks on people who can see them, you know."

Ginny gives a mirthless laugh. "No, Luna. He's no Garble Hawk. He's…" she hesitates. What is Tom? An enemy, trying to break her sanity and rule the world? A friend to comfort her when her fellow classmates whispered about her behind their hands? An ally through this strange experience of being attached to another? Ginny isn't sure her self. "He's a boy who went to school here. But he died a long, long time ago…"

Luna smiled. "So he's like a ghost no one can see?"

Ginny smiled. "Yes, Luna, somewhat like that. But he's not really an imprint like ghosts are. You see…" Ginny stops once more. Does she want to tell Luna this? Of course she does, she's wanted to tell everybody. She's wanted to scream it from the top of the world; she's _not _crazy. Someone's there, right _there, _can't you see? Ginny Weasley is _not _loony, insane; she hasn't gone round the bend, because he is standing _right….there. _

But, no. No one would understand. No one would believe.

Except maybe Luna.

"Luna, his soul has gripped mine. We're attached, and no one else is supposed to see him but me. And you can."

"Oh, a boy. I've never known a boy ghost who went here. What was his name?" Luna asks, veering off topic, as was expected of her.

"His name's Tom. I've been seeing him since around the end of the Summer hols. He hasn't always been nice, but he…" Ginny gives him a scant glance. Tom's eyes are on Ginny, only Ginny, not even daring to glance toward the girl who he was so eager to meet. "He has his useful moments."

And Ginny and Luna sit in the Room long into the night as Ginny tells Luna everything. Well, almost everything.

"What's is name, Ginny?" Luna's eyes, sparkling a curiously cloudy blue, connect with Ginny's.

"His name is Tom Randall," are the first words out of Ginny's mouth; that is one detail she can never tell.

"Why do you think I can see him as well, Ginny?"

"I don't know, Luna. I really don't. Perhaps it was all the experimental magic you've been around all your life. Or, maybe, your brain is just different from everyone else's… People aren't like you Luna- no, don't laugh. You're a very different sort of person, and not in the way others think. They see what they want to see, but you…you see what's really there."

From the corner of the room- when had he moved there? - Tom whispers something inaudible. His gaze is still locked on Ginny.

**My God, it's been so long. I'm so, so sorry. I would like to make excuses, but once again...they'd only be half valid. I know, I'm terrible to you. Forgive me (And review)? **


	9. Library Quarrels and The Jailbreak

"There's a Hogsmede trip next Saturday," Ginny mentions to Tom conversationally as they skim books in a dark corner of the library.

"Hogsmede? Ginevra, we have work to do here. We have yet to find the book which holds the answer to my freedom." Tom has been very much on edge the last few days since her night with Luna. _Well,_ Ginny thinks. _On edge for _Tom,_ anyway._ The sixteen-year-old phantom still sometimes unconsciously sends a book or quill flying without any concern, but mostly, Ginny is very grateful, he sits looking miffed.

A sudden image of Tom throwing a hissy fit, stomping his feet and turning several shades of red, enters her mind and Ginny cannot help but giggle.

"What're you laughing at?" Tom snaps, yanking Ginny from her day dream.

"Oh, nothing," she replies. "Tom, I'm going to go to that Hogsmede trip. I mean, we've made no progress, so far-"

"Perhaps if you'd actually _work _for once-"

"And," Ginny continues, as though she hadn't heard him. "I don't think me sulking around because I can't have fun will do any good. So I will go. You can come if you like."

Tom scoffs. "I wouldn't have a choice, would I?"

"You know what I _mean."_ Ginny rolls her eyes at him. "You can really come along and sightsee, or you can stay cooped up in my cerebral cortex all day, fuming about how I disobeyed the almighty Dark Lord Snarky Pants. It's your choice."

"_Don't _poke fun at my rightful title, you-"

"So your rightful title is the Dark Lord Snarky Pants? Really, Tom, I must say I liked 'Voldemort' much more. It had a more menacing ring to it; although, Dark Lord Snarky Pants is much more straightforward."

A rather thick book flies from its shelf, missing Ginny's skull by about ten centimeters.

"_Excuse me_," a rather tight voice addresses Ginny in a fierce whisper. "Just _what_ are you doing to this literature?"

"I'm, uh, I'm so sorry, Madame Pince," Ginny stutters. "It fell as I was, err, about to walk back to my table. Honestly."

"Well _don't_ let it happen _again_," says Madame Pince in a clipped voice, and, with a fierce glare towards Ginny, she goes back to her duties: scolding children and cataloging books.

Ginny quickly reshelves the fallen book and leaves the library.

"And, do you know, he hasn't even talked to me since," Padma Patil confesses, teary eyed, to Ginny and the gaggle of girls sitting around her at the Griffindor table in the Great Hall. Ginny wonders how she got stuck sitting here, amungst many girls who give her funny looks in the hallway and others who she hasn't spoken to in weeks.

"Oh, poor thing," coos Lavender Brown. "I know just how you feel." The rest of them nod their heads in near unison, all making declarations and confessions of broken hearts weary-minded beauxs. Ginny, however, remains silent.

"Are you alright, Ginny?" Ginny looks up from her porridge to see Lavender and the rest of the gaggle of girls staring at her curiously.

"Oh, I'm fine," Ginny smiles awkwardly.

"Well, if you insist…"

A sudden, high-pitched screeching fills the halls from above and two dozen owls in all shapes and sizes swarm the room, dropping packages off to their owners.

"Oh, look, my grandmother's sent chocolates," Romilda points out happily as she opens a neatly wrapped parcel.

"The _Prophet_'s in," reports Lavenders, waving the paper to emphasize her point. "Look what they've written _this_ time."

DEATH EATER ESCAPES DURING

TRANSPORTATION TO AZKABAN?

During a mass transportation of several known You-Know-Who

followers and Death Eaters, it is rumored that one of the prisoners

made an escape while a guard was confirming information with

a fellow Ministry employee. The identity of the escaped Death Eater has

yet to be released by the Ministry, who themselves make

no comment on the accusations that they allowed one of

their high-security prisoners to escape.

"I think it's completely mental to not release the name," says one

concerned Wizarding citizen. "I mean, how are we supposed to keep

ourselves safe if we don't know what to protect ourselves from?" Is this

a sign that releasing the Dementors from their duties

as Azkaban guards was a mistake? Will the new staff at Azkaban

allow more dangerous criminals to be released onto our society? Will-

"Oh, goodness, make it stop," moans Ginny. "It's all rubbish."

"Well, of course it is," Pavarti rolls her eyes. "The _Prophet_ hasn't been taken seriously for _ages_; everyone knows that. I'll bet this 'high-security runaway' was really just a common thief, grouped in with a few Death Eaters to be sent off to Azkaban."

"Hm. Well, I'm off to Potions."

"Bye, Romilda," the girls chorus. Slowly but surely, the rest of the flock disperse off to their class.

Ginny sits on her bed, her head in her hands and three full outfits floating in front of her.

"The blue top looks pretty, but if it's nippy out those sleeves won't do much… And those green jeans are my favorite…"

Tom, lounging on the trunk that sits in front of her four-post, sighs in aggravation. "Ginevra, you've been contemplating what to wear for twenty minutes. Just wear the green bottoms with the muted gold belt and the white long sleeve shirt coupled with the faded wine jacket. Now will you please turn to the next page? I'm reading about my own demise and it's getting to the good part…"

"That's not a bad idea," Ginny giggles. "I wouldn't have pegged you for a fashion expert- especially since you lived over five decades ago."

"How could I not know, with you rambling on for ever about charming your top six shades of teal? Now, the book, if you would."

Ginny stops her teasing (aside from a few giggles) and obediently turns the page.

"Does this mean you won't throw a fit if I go to Hogsmead?"

"I do not _'throw fits,'_" Tom scowls. "I become strict. And it is no one's fault but your own if you inflict my anger. But I admit this trip may assist in my task; there are many old shop owners in Hogsmead who must have been around to know what Dumbledore did with the text."

Ginny exclaims brightly, "so you do want to go!"

"For _research_," Tom snaps.

"Sure, sure. Research."

A/N: OHMYGOSHITSBEENSOLONGAGAIN. This was actually finished, like four days ago…but I just kept thinking I could add more, then didn't. Sad face. Anyways, Big thanks to the reviewers of Chapter seven: **writemealovesong, Kitty Black Cat, CupcakeChan95, .95 **(Wonder who THAT could be?),** Cake, Evanescence, Kaye, May, TwinkleMea1991, slytherintriumvirate, insanity75, remuslover101, **and** LarkaSpirit.**

And to all the equally glorious, and (in the words of Keh-Dollar sign-Ha) sexy-fied, reviewers of Chapter Eight: **17child-of-the-moon17, Kaye, Blumenkasten, nienerz, seriana14, TwinkleMea1991, Kitty Black Cat, **and **.95 **

I love you all, especially those of you who review regularly- Cupcake, Kitty, Kaye (even though I can't respond- get yourself an account, non-gender-specific-name!) TwinkleMea, Larka… and everyone who has been sticking with this story so far (really, as I scan the reviews, a lot of you have reviewed throughout the story—I think I am tearin' up!). You really do not know how much this means to me. Smile face! Anyway, I won't keep you- or me. I have school and it's almost one. Time to go. Love to all!

ReadBML


	10. More Quarreling? And Flaming Fight

"Oh, let's go to Honeyduke's!"

"The Three Broomsticks is full right now, but we can always head to Zonko's for a bit…"

"Is the Shrieking Shack really haunted, Miriam?"

Students from ages thirteen to seventeen buzz around Ginny as the carriages arrive at Hogsmede to drop the children off. She stands in the middle of this chaos, alone…At least, that's the way it seems to everyone else.

"This place has changed," Tom mumbles, staring off at the clusters of shops and pubs.

"You came here a lot during school?" Ginny asks.

"No, of course not, I was… busy. I only came twice in all of the five years we were aloud to go: Once when I had business to discuss with a sort of salesman and once in my sixth year, because…"

"Because it would look strange to be the only person staying in school with the Heir of Slytherin on the loose," Ginny finishes his sentence.

"Yes…yes, precisely," Tom stares coldly at the ground, and they stand silently as the crowd thins out.

"Let's go to Honeyduke's," Ginny suggests brightly. "I need something sweet."

Tom nods simply, and they two trudge off in the snow towards the brightly decorated shops, leaving a single pair of footprints in the snow.

Ginny heads towards the Shrieking Shack, she practically skips while she swings a brightly colored Honeyduke's bag, filled with sugary treats.

"Why are we going if you know it's not really haunted?" Tom asks with a sigh.

"Dunno," replies Ginny, "the novelty, maybe?"

"The carriages are scheduled to leave within a half hour's time, Ginevra. If we don't get back by then-"

"Then the clock will strike midnight and I'll turn into a mouse again?" Ginny finishes.

"What?"

"I'm not sure. It's a Muggle story Hermione and I saw in one of those moo-vees. I think it's Cindy-rella or something like that. She's given a magic gown by her kind fairy stepmother, then she goes to a ball where she meets the prince and they fall in love. But the magic wears off at midnight, and Cindy-rella has to leave. She trips and leaves her glass shoe, which for some reason didn't disappear at midnight like it was supposed to. Anyway, the prince finds her because her feet are the only ones who fit the slipper and they live-"

"How precious," Tom smirks, "Muggle fairy tales. I was never fond of them myself, even as a child. Happy endings never work out."

Ginny becomes a bit defensive, as though he were making a personal remark. "Yes they do."

"Of course they don't. Not in actual life- all that "ever lasting love" shite is worthless nonsense they stuff into children's' heads."

"You're wrong," Ginny raises her voice. "Just look at Fleur and Bill, look at-"

"Look at whom? That Mudblood and her puppy you call a brother- or would you rather we use you and Potter as an example?" Tom spits. "Where's the 'happy ever after' there? You know how he sees you now. He thinks you're coming undone. He and that blood traitor even sent their Mudblood friend to see how bad it really is."

The Shrieking Shack comes into view as Tom says this, and Ginny stops in her tracks.

"Because of _you," _Ginny screeches. "If you hadn't come along, then Harry and I… Harry and I would be-"

"Would be what, Ginevra- madly in love with an engagement ring on your finger? Don't make me laugh. Did you ever really think this childish, hero-worship fantasy of yours would ever become reality?"

"Why does it always end this way? Why do you have to _be so_-_?_"

_Crack. _A twig in the distance snaps.

Tom freezes his eyes and ears intent on finding the source of the intruding sound. "Hush."

Ginny, too angry to notice his change in attitude, laughs at Tom. "Oh, so you can tell me how silly I am?"

Tom uncharacteristically rolls his eyes. "No, you stupid thing, so I can listen to whatever is behind that thicket of wood!"

"What…?" Ginny turns around to see a tall, hooded figure step out from the trees.

"'Ello, Poppet," he says in a deep voice, his large, malicious grin showing two rows of rotten yellow teeth. "How're we today?"

"Who're you?" Ginny says, trying her best to mask her shaking voice with bravery.

"Tha's not what's important. What's important is who _you_ are, Poppet. You see, a lot of people right now have some very sour feelin's to tha' pretty lit'le beaux ah yours. A lot of people would like to see him hurt; and you're just the thing that we fink will cut deepest. "

Ginny is freezing up as the words fall from the large man's mouth, sounding almost gleeful. Ginny wants to reach for her wand, she knows she must, but cannot. Why? When she went with the DA to save Sirius she was fine, eager, even, to fight. During the Final Battle she fought, coerced, and protested against her mother and the Order so that she could fight. Why isn't she able to now? Has she really changed so much that she couldn't even hold a wand to a former Death Eater?

"Ginevra, your wand!" yells Tom in her ear. The Death Eater had come closer now, slowly, as if she were a lost child who needed help. Suddenly, with a burst of energy, Tom pulls the wand out of her pocket, and it flies into the snow at her feet.

"What the 'ell?" The death Eater looks confused by Ginny's wand flying out of her pocket of its own accord.

Tom, slightly more transparent now, urges her to take it. "If he hurts you, he hurts me, too. Remember that _and take your damn wand_!"

As if a hex come undone, Ginny is frozen no more. Without even thinking, grasping for her wand. The Death Eater sees her grab for it, and brings his arm back, roaring, "_CRUCI_-"

"Expeliarmus," Ginny shouts, a jet of bright light shooting from her wand, but missing the man by an inch.

"You lit'le bint, I'll show you!" The man readies for yet another Unforgivable curse.

"Ginevra, listen to me. Move your wand like this," Tom makes a few gestures in the air with his hand, "and say 'adstringo adustrum.'"

Knowing that it takes days, sometimes weeks, to learn a spell and knowing that it is even harder to learn something that was probably Dark, Ginny still tries. Waving her wand as Tom did- left, right, up, swish, down- Ginny yells out, almost desperately, _"adstringo adustrum!"_

At once, a long string of fire flies from her wand and wraps itself around the man, and it binds him from his shoulder to knees in thin chords flames. He screams loudly and drops his wand.

"Now run," says Tom. _"Go."_

As Ginny flees the scene, she hears the distinct snapping of wood, of Tom destroying the Death Eater's wand, entwined with his screams of pain.

_A/N_: Ahhh! Hello everyone, if you're still here and haven't abandoned me because of my foul, foul procrastinatory ways. You know, it's not even the writing I freeze on- it's the STARTING, you know? I'm just all "Oh, I'll start tomorrow, I'm tired today." Because, mostly I AM tired… sorry. Inter-cry face. Anyways, whaddya think? I tried to make the arguing come naturally, I didn't want it to seem like I just flipped a switch for convenience, if that makes sense. I worried over it for a bit. And for those of you who connected the article last chapter with the Death Eater in this one, congrats, they are one in the same! Inter-cookie for you!

Last but NEVER least, thanks to all the reviewers of last Chapter: The lovely **ms Masen, Kaarmea Zia,** **MissScarlet202, readingandwriting**, AKA the wonderful **Kaye, **the ever-faithful **CupCake****.Chan.95, Jenny Joker, and Kitten Little.** My heart goes out to all of you, especially those who are still around. Inter-smiles all around…okay the inter-thing is getting annoying, isn't it? Haha.

P.S. Sorry, **Cupcake**, it always cuts your name down to .95. I wonder why? Anyway, I'll see if I can't fix that, but you know it's you now...not some random person called .95...


	11. Rosmerta, Understanding, and Who am I?

Ginny pants heavily as she makes it back into town. The usual hustle and bustle she is used to seeing in Hogsmede is gone. Now the street is empty, the shops are without customers, and it seems almost like a ghost town. The only reminder of the hundreds of students is the shopkeepers sweeping away torn wrappers and the footprints, thousands and thousands, it seems, left in the snow.

The carriages are gone, too. Ginny lets out a curse as she kicks the ground and sends snow flying.

…_Damn_. Where's Tom? Ginny knows he _couldn't _still be dealing with that Death Eater.

"Tom," Ginny calls out softly, weary of the few shopkeepers outside. "Tom? This is not funny." She receives no answer.

Ginny sighs and heads over to the Three Broomsticks.

"Rosmerta," Ginny calls as the bell attached to the door jingles. "Rosmerta, are you here?"

"Ginny," Rosmerta exclaims as she appears from the back room. "What're you still doing here? The carriages to Hogwarts left almost fifteen minutes ago, they're bound to be to the castle by now!"

"I got lost wandering around," Ginny lies easily.

Rosmerta tuts at her playfully, her light brown curls bouncing as she shakes her head. "What _will _we do with you, dear?"

"You _could_ start with getting me a ride back to Hogwarts," Ginny trails off and smiles just a little, batting her eye lashes like a child trying to look innocent.

"Alright, alright; let me floo the Headmistress," as she heads off into the back room, where the fireplace is blazing.

Ginny and Madame Rosmerta have always gotten along better than any of the other students to grace the Three Broomsticks. On the very first day Ginny stepped in the little, homey establishment, her third year, Rosmerta liked her instantly. Ginny was young, brave, witty, not too bad with the boys, and always brought a nice little crowd with her (always a plus when you're running an Inn and pub); Rosmerta had even told Ginny a number of times she reminded her of herself when she was young (however long ago that was has yet to be disclosed). Whenever Ginny sat down, Rosmerta always made a point to talk to her, friendly, laughingly, like sisters who hadn't seen each other for years. Over the countless trips made to Hogsmede in the winter, spring, and fall, jokes were thrown, confessions made ("We're dating Rosmerta, can you believe it?"), and even threats ("Call me 'Rosey' one more time, Ginny Weasley, and I'll get my cleaver!"). And through it all they liked each other more and more.

Things only became strained in the middle of Ginny's fifth year, when Ginny spied Rosmerta handing a package to Katie Bell through a crack in the lavatory stall. When Ginny heard Katie was in St. Mungo's because someone had given her a cursed necklace, she didn't know what to do. When she learned Draco Malfoy had caused it all, she all but danced in relief. They haven't spoken since the Final Battle.

This isn't the reunion Ginny wants.

Rosmerta walks back in, a smile on her weary face, "alright, you; the Headmistress is sending back one of the carriages. She didn't sound too miffed, so I think you'll be fine."

"I should hope so; you know Headmistress McGonagall. She can be kind, but when her rocket is lit-"

"She starts breathing fire worse than a Hungarian Horntail, I know," Rosmerta giggles. When she sobers up, she looks Ginny in the eyes and asks, "So where were you today? I saw you went to Honeyduke's, but left me out in the cold. I nearly cried, you know." She throws an over-theatrical weep Ginny's way.

"Well," Ginny thinks hard. How is she to tell Rosmerta that she had planned to visit the Inn, but had been set upon by a rogue Death Eater who had wanted to kidnap her or even kill her to hurt a boy who couldn't look her in the eyes anymore? "I planned on it, but…" She can't, that's how. "But, like I said, I got a little lost in the wood on the way back from the Shrieking Shack. I just found my way back and, well, I'm here now!"

"Well, better late than never. How's the Lover Boy?"

"Harry and I… aren't exactly talking, 'Merta."

Rosemerta instantly looks shocked and sympathetic. "What? But, Ginny, you love him. And he loves you…"

_Ha. Sure_. "I don't know. I just think he needs to, err, get over all the grief. Me too, a bit."

Just as she finishes, Ginny hears a loud "neigh" outside.

"Well, that was quick. Someone must have been halfway." Ginny stands and turns to Rosmerta before leaving. "Thank you, Rosmerta. I'll make sure to spend extra time at the Broomsticks next trip."

"You'd better," she smiles. "Ginny… be careful, alright?"

Ginny hesitates at the door. Looking back once more, she tries to looks like she wasn't just nearly killed, like she hasn't been virtually alone for the last few months and yet never alone- always being watched and scrutinized, and yet… No. Ginny knows she mustn't let it show. Rosmerta is the last person in Europe she wants to worry about her. _Smile, damn it_. "Of course. I can take care of myself, Rosmerta. See you."

The bell attached to the front door jingles, announcing her departure as she hops in the carriage pulled by two rather large thestrals.

As the merry, brightly lit town of Hogsmede becomes a faint glow in the distance, Ginny silently asks Rosmerta's forgiveness and wonders what kind of person she's become; afraid to fight and lying all of the time to friends who don't deserve it. Once more she thinks: How did she get like this?

The Room of Requirement is empty, thank Merlin, no one is using it. Sitting in front of the warm, blazing fire with deliciously hot cocoa in hand, Ginny is almost ready to fall asleep right there on the plush, beat-up yellow sofa. But she can't, can't fall asleep…no, she mustn't…if she does, then she'll have to tell everyone why she never came back to the Common Room. So she can't… can't…

The fire becomes a blur, and is swallowed by darkness.

_Warm…so warm…_

_Bathroom, water- no, not water… ink, so much ink, snakes, holding her down, can't move, can't move- why, why, why? _

_Screaming, so afraid, so, so afraid. _

_Swim, swim, swim…!_

Ginny screams as she jumps out of _the_ nightmare, that same one she had so long ago.

"Calm down, will you. Someone will hear you." Tom Riddle stands over her, looking like a parent scolding his child.

"You…you're back. But I called you and you didn't answer…" Ginny is confused.

"Well, I spent a little _too_ much time teaching Talsley a lesson. Couldn't very well appear only half there, could I?"

"Talsley?"

"A very, _very_ low ranking servant of mine. What he thought he could accomplish by attempting _that_ disaster is beyond me."

"Oh," something comes upon Ginny's mind. "You sent me that dream again, didn't you?"

"Hm? Oh, that. Well, you wouldn't wake up. Nothing like a reinstating of one's greatest nightmares to wake one up," a boyish, handsome grin sits on Tom's face. Had Ginny not heard a word he had she would be sure he was flirting with her- but that's impossible for Tom Riddle, the wicked boy who was always destined to grow into the world's greatest monster.

Ginny knows she should be extremely cross towards him, but resolves that she'll grant him pardon for saving her. "Thank you, by the way. For getting me out of there. You saved my life."

"No, I saved my soul," Tom corrects.

Ginny smiles ruefully. "Either way, I'm still here, and it's 'cause of you. Thanks."

Tom looks away momentarily as he mumbles a small, "welcome."

"What was that spell, anyway? The one you told me to use on the Death Eater- Talsley."

Tom gives a wicked grin. "Oh, just something I picked up while skimming a book from the Restricted Section. I've used it quite a few times. "

Ginny really doesn't understand Tom's fascination with Dark and evil things, and says so.

"They're just so," Tom searches for the right word, "enthralling. When I first entered Hogwarts, I didn't know the Restricted Section existed- then, in my third year, a professor sent me back there to get a book for him. I picked up an old, leather bound book with chains hanging from it and ever since, I tried any excuse to get back there.

"The things I learnt… how to curse people so that every time they said or thought a certain word, they would get the sensation of a rust sword piercing their lungs; objects that made people hate the giver and want to murder them; potions that turn your enemy's skin into an acid material, so they can never have contact with anything but the strongest of elements. It's like learning a whole new type of magic, so different from the type taught here- what use do I have for turning mice into teacups? When will I ever need to know the charm to make light bulbs engorge to the size of a watermelon? It's far more useful to know how to defeat your enemies and conquer your rivals," Tom speaks about the Dark Arts as Snape did her fifth year; as a lover, as something so utterly precious to him, that he'd die without it.

Somehow, as she looks at Tom's face, lit up with the joy of a child and yet discussing terrible spells and curses and potions, Ginny understands. Ginny thinks back on the six years of proper teaching she had. How many useless things had she learnt? How to turn fruit into silverware, how to make animals tap dance, how to stare into a glass ball and pretend to see disaster; none of these things is of consequence to Ginny, not then or now. She sees how a small child, so used to being on his own and very proper, who didn't have time for nonsense, would be pulled from mundane things and attracted toward something seen as useful, as important, as _powerful._

"Come," Tom changes the subject. "You need to get back to your dorm. The last thing we need is for questions to be raised."

**A/N: It's 8:40 PM, Christmas Day, so, technically…here's my present to you! It's not much, but I put my heart into it…no one month period of waiting for you! However, because I wrote it a little bit quicker this time, I don't promise that I won't go back in a day or two and COMPLETELY change a thing or two. **

**As always, thanks to all the reviewers, so much love to you, the old and the new. **ms masen**(Me? Hang you from a cliff? Surely not…hehehe.),** Kitten Little**,** FYInichole**,** .91**,** Kaali Oppenheimer, readingandwriting **(I hope no one you know is near you when you read this, all the jumping may frighten them… ha-ha.),** kaarmae Zia, **and** MissScarlet202**(I completely agree, I think…maybe…just let me get my dictionary…).**


	12. Cake, MakeUps, and Letters from Home

Ginny sits in the corner of the Gryffindor common room, clad in her pajamas and bath robe, one of last few stragglers of the night. She sighs as she scans her notes for the Potions test the following morning. A quick glance at the grandfather clock ticking away in the corner tells her its nine forty-two at night.

Knowing students are expected in their beds at ten, she decides to sneak down to the kitchen for a cram-session snack. Tip-toeing out of the common room so she doesn't draw attention to herself, she silently opens the portrait of the Fat Lady (who's asleep, snoring loudly) and sneaks down the corridor, then the down the moving staircases, to the first level of the castle.

She carefully monitors where she goes, weary of becoming lost. Even though Ginny knows she's made the trip what must be a hundred times she also knows that Hogwarts Castle is very temperamental as to where what doors lead and how corridors are placed. One wrong turn and she could be on the fifth floor before she can say, "where am I?"

Left, right, left, left, straight, left, and… _ah, there it is!_ The red headed girl smiles triumphantly as she tickles the worn yellow pear. The portrait swings open to reveal a seemingly endless kitchen with hundreds of little house elves running in all directions.

"Hello, Missy," a small, grey-skinned house elf comes up to her with an eager look upon it's face. "What is Missy needing tonight?" By now Ginny has attracted a small crowd of elves, all ready to assist, some already holding sweets and hot chocolate for her to have as she waits.

"She will be needing none of that," someone calls from behind her. The voice is soft but holds all the demand for attention that makes both the elves and Ginny turn.

And there Headmistress McGonagall stands, her eagle-like face fixed in it's usual stern way. She's also in her night clothes, her long, old-fashioned nightgown revealing a pair of worn slippers on her feet and her hair tied to the side with a bit of emerald ribbon.

Ginny barely misses a beat, already armed with a foolproof lie. "Headmistress, I was just-"

"Come with me, Miss Weasley," McGonagall interrupts her. "To my office."

"Yes, Headmistress," Ginny sighs as she trudges after her.

"Well," Tom Riddle materializes next to Ginny, falling in step with her as she follows the Headmistress out of the kitchens. "I wonder what she could want."

Ginny stares straights ahead, ignoring him studiously.

"I see; no talking while the authorities are around. Well, blink once for no, twice for yes, and three times for foul language."

She gives no reaction, not really seeing the humor in the situation. What could she be in trouble for? Perhaps being out of bed so close to curfew, and in the kitchens to boot, but wouldn't she just get house points deducted for that- possibly detention at the worst?

"Do you know why you're being taken to the Headmistress's office?"

Ginny blinks once.

"No? Well, I'm sure she wants to check on your mental stability- Potter and his rotters have done nothing but fuss over it since we arrived, haven't they?"

She blinks twice. Although they've done nothing recently, Ginny still feels a little stung.

"You see, we can have very interesting conversations when you want."

"Lemon Sherbet," the Headmistress whispers. "Miss Weasley, if you please," McGonagall directs her up the staircase, following closely behind her.

They step into the office and sit, McGonagall at her large, ornate desk and Ginny in one of the guest seats. She notices that she and McGonagall are alone and wonders where Tom's gone to. She brushes the thought away and idly looks over the office.

Between Snape and McGonagall, almost everything about the office from Dumbledore's time has changed. The only things that remain the same from the old office are the portraits of past headmasters, Dumbledore now among them. His eyes twinkle down on them from his half moon glasses.

"Miss Weasley. Firstly, let me say that you are in no trouble. Next, allow me to give this to you." She hands Ginny a thick envelope, sealed with scarlet wax with the initials AD. _Dumbledore's seal, _Ginny thinks fleetingly as she moves to open it.

"Wait," McGonagall reaches across the desk and seizes her hand. "You're not to open it until you are alone. Also, I mean to give you this as well." She pulls another envelope, much thinner this time. Ginny immediately recognizes the worn, second hand parchment. _Mum and Dad…_

"I've been waiting for the most… opportune time to give them to you. The first was left to me by Professor Dumbledore. I found it in his desk with a note on it, expressing that I was to give it to you this year. The second, I was entrusted with only a short while ago. It seems your father is still weary of the Ministry checking owls."

"Thank you, Headmistress. Is that all?"

"Yes. Now, you may head to your dormitory. But only if you take this back as well," McGonagall pulls out her wand and hits the desk with a sharp rap and a small porcelain plate with a luxurious slice of chocolate cake on it appears. A small silver fork sticks up from the top.

Ginny takes it with a small smile and dashes out of the office, down the stairway, and back to the Common Room.

"Hi, Gin," Harry jumps up from the worn red sofa as Ginny slips through the Fat Lady's portrait. Ginny has a bit of trouble making him out in the dark; the only light is that of the moon and the dying fire.

"Harry," Ginny says unenthusiastically. She really isn't looking for another mini-intervention after the last Hermione disaster.

Harry fidgets with his hands. His hair even more mussed than usual and he's still in his school robes, also a mess.

"I just wanted to, you know, talk," He sees the look Ginny's giving him and puts his hands up. "Not, you know… I mean, about us. Please, come sit. Just for five minutes, yeah? _Five minutes._"

Ginny reluctantly takes a seat on the sofa, a good distance from Harry. She sets the cake on the coffee stand, but tucks the letters safely in the pocket of her robe. "So," she says, still distrusting. Hardly two sentences together since school started _ages _ago, and he wants to talk? _He'd better pull something out of his arse a thousand times greater than the defeat of Voldemort if he wants any hope of getting in my good graces… _if _that's what he really wants. _

For all her criticisms, Ginny can't help but feel a spark of, dare she admit it, happiness. After all, this is her first love, her idol, her _Harry. _Their growing apart hurt Ginny to a great extent and she was trying to cover it up day by day with the profound amount of research she did for Tom. Of course, how busy he kept her helped- what with all the arguing and research they did. The aching was fading, but still there.

"Alright," he begins shakily. "I… I miss us, Gin. I really do. I don't know what's been goin' on lately but I don't like it."

"I've been trying, Harry, really, but… It's complicated."

"_What _is?"

"Nothing… I mean, not nothing, but," she is cut off.

"_What _are you doing?" Tom hisses. Although he's across the room, Ginny swears he's right next to her,

"Nothing," she replies, forgetting herself.

Harry sighs. "Alright, I understand. You won't tell me… for now."

For a few awkward moments, the room is filled with silence.

"So… Can we try again?" Harry asked, his eyes looking at her over the top of his glasses, wide and green as a pickled toad.

"Ginny, reject him. He'd only get in the way, you know that," Tom spits. "Go on."

There's a pregnant pause as Ginny hesitates. She looks from Harry to Tom and back. "Okay," Ginny gives Harry a small smile. "One more go."

"_What?_" Tom's pale face tinges pink and his hands clench. The flames of the fire place flare up a bit from the embers, but Harry doesn't pay it any attention.

"Great! Meet me for breakfast, okay? I'll wait just outside the Fat Lady's portrait," Harry engulfs her in a hug and rushes up the stairs.

Just as he disappears from sight, the flames flare up one last time, almost bursting from the fire place, and recede back into the glowing embers and ash.

Tom crosses his arms, displeased indeed. "And _what _do you think you're doing?"

"Look," Ginny rises from the sofa, a pleading look on her face. "He can help us, I know it." _I don't want him angry with me. It'll only cause problems and… _And what? Tom has been plenty angry with her before and she's never blinked. She knows that fighting right now would be strenuous, but there's something else. Something Ginny can't quite put her finger on.

"And how will Wonder Boy assist us? Shall we ask politely if he'll, pretty please, help bring Lord Voldemort back into existence for the umpteenth time?"

"No, but he's been in the restricted section quite a lot over the years and, knowing how thick he is most times, if I, his innocent little girlfriend, were to ask a few questions for a DADA extra credit assignment…who would care?" Of course, this isn't the whole truth as to why Ginny wants to get back with Harry, but this will sedate Tom, for now.

Tom seems to be struck silent, unable to think of an argument.

"We'll see," and he's gone.

Ginny stifles a great yawn as she prepares to finally head to bed, trying not to wake the other girls. She takes off her worn, fuzzy yellow bath robe and hangs it on one of the posts of her bed. As she climbs into bed, her foot snags the bottom of the robe and pulls it off the post.

"Bugger," Ginny whispers. When she hangs it up as second time, two letters fall out of her robe pocket and to the floor; she'd forgotten about those. Ginny picks them up and hauls herself up under the scarlet covers.

"_Lumos._" The tip of her wand lights up, and Ginny blinks a few times as her eyes adjust.

She picks up her parent's letter first, tearing it open.

_Ginny,_

_Hello, dear. We all miss you very much, and hope you're having a good time at school. George sends his love, and Bill and Fleur say hello. They visited the other day. Victoire__ is well and healthy and as happy a baby as I've ever seen, although Fleur didn't eat nearly as much as I'd hoped- always as skinny as a leaf, that one, even after having a baby! But I suppose she can't help it._

_We hoped you'd have written by now, darling. I know that you're under a lot of stress lately. And I'm sorry to say that I may have added to it. We've talked to Headmistress McGonagall and she's given you permission to come home for a week this Friday. We all agree that you need some time off. Your assignments will be sent to you by owl as will a summary of anything new taught in the classes you miss. Of course, you don't have to come, dear, but we'd love it if you did. _

_We'll be waiting for your owl._

_All our love,_

_Mum & Dad_

Ginny sets the letter aside, unsure of what to do. Accepting the invitation would give her time off from the stresses of school, work and students alike, but would Tom allow her to go? Further more, Ginny thinks as she remembers the summer's events, how would she be treated? Over the summer hols she felt like an utter outcast, almost like she didn't belong in her own home. Will it be different now that her and Tom got on better- that she knew how to handle him better? Maybe it will. Ginny, sitting in the glowing light of her _Lumos _under her sheets, decides that she'll give it a try.

Now how to convince Tom, as well. Ginny would prefer to have the little vacation without a fuss…

She gathers up her parents letter and Dumbledore's, which remains unopened, climbs out of bed, and stuffs them in her trunk.

As she finally rests her head on her pillows, Ginny's mind reels with manipulating, slightly underhanded arguments that would even convince the Malfoy family to holiday at the Burrow.

A/N: Once again let me apologize. Six months. SIX. It's horrid of me. However, I've gained something from my little hiatus. I think I've improved a bit from re-reading what I've already written and hope it shows here. I worked extra hard on it to get it just right. Let me tell you, I re-read most of the reviews and that helped the motivation a lot.

Thanks again to all those who reviewed: **more, CandyRedApple, ginny7777, readingandwriting, page656 **(Thank you so much. The theory at the beginning was very interesting and I'm glad to know the Fred slip up (which I've fixed but haven't updated the chapter, yet) haven't made me a target of canonites (totally made that up. Clever, right? That made me feel cool.))**, **and **Kitten Little**!

Once again, I love all of you who reviewed, and kisses to those who favorite or put the story on watch (albeit in vein that past six month, yeah?) I hope I haven't lost any of my faithfuls over time and promise to get back in the game for good this time. Loving reviews are wanted, needed, and never given up, but good-hearted criticisms are priceless.

Also, closing question. Harry Potter 7, Part 2. Yay or Nay? Also, Ron, nineteen years later. Anyone else laugh so hard the people around you thought you were trolling? (Say nothing against Draco the Great or his bad choice in facial hair. NOTHING.)

Love,

ReadBML

P.S. Sorry for the two or three meme-speaks in the A/N, I've recently become a memebase fanatic.

…I don't always update my FanFiction stories… but when I do, it's not for six months. -coolest writer in the world


	13. Arguments Won and Going Home

"_Go home? _You can't just go home, not now!" Tom stands by the fire place in the Room of Requirement. It's become their sort of shelter from the world.

Many a day, Ginny would wind up skipping Charms or Herbology and she and Tom would sit by the fire, reading through books of Dark spells. Progress in the Room, though, was sometimes scarce. Whenever Ginny would ask a question ("Tom, this jinx, here. Have you ever used it? It doesn't really go into detail about the effects…") the phantom boy would go into great detail when answering. More than once he ended up telling Ginny personal stories he'd never really shared with anyone else in order to properly explain something ("I used that particular jinx a few times, yes. Once when a peaky Ravenclaw girl pulled me aside in my fifth year to confess her undying love- it made her feel as if her hair and clothes were on fire if she ever made eye contact with me. She could even see it, too, if I recall. Needless to say, Aribeth Bones never looked my way again," Ginny met his guffaw with a nervous chuckle.)

Tonight, however, he is in no mood for stories. The light from the flames illuminates his face, but somehow his eyes still seem dark, almost frightening. Tom's always frightening when he's angry.

"Tom, I need this. We've made no progress and I need a break from all of the research. You know, we've gone through half the Restricted Section in the last _two weeks? _Do you know how much reading that is?" Ginny stomps her foot as she stands from the large chair in protest.

Tom Riddle closes his eyes and creases his brow in frustration. A week at that pathetic hobble Ginny calls a home would mean a week away from research, from finding the _cure_ as Tom likes to think of it. It would _also_ mean a week away from _Potter._ In the few days since that night in the common room Ginny's been spending quite a lot of time with him and it hasn't been a pleasant experience. Aside from being his 'future' self's greatest enemy and the man who killed him, the boy was infuriating. He was self-centered and terribly inconsistent. One moment he's hanging onto Ginny's sleeve, the next he can't spare two words in her direction, spurning her for that oaf and his Mudblood woman.

_Is it possible for one to have a headache if they don't have a physical brain?_ Tom wonders. He plops down on the love seat next to Ginny's chair, silent.

Almost pleadingly (although she hopes it's not _very_ apparent), Ginny kneels down next to him and clasps her hands together. He glances down at her doe-like brown eyes, which Ginny has widened as far as possible for the full puppy-dog-effect, and scoffs.

Silence.

"I've decided," Tom says in an overly kingly fashion, "that you may go- only if you give your word that when we return you'll go straight to the Restricted Section to continue looking."

Ginny can't help but to let out a small "yes!" in triumph. Two fights won in one week; it's progress.

Ooooo

Ginny lets out a sigh as she sets her bag down on a cold stone bench in the large courtyard. Having just gotten out of Herbology, she feels slightly dirty but refreshed; hacking at a squirming Fire Vine, Ginny finds, is strangely therapeutic. She stretches and sits herself down next to her bag,

"Hello, Ginny," Luna Lovegood greets. "How've you been?"

"Luna," Ginny smiles. "It's been ages. I'm good, and you?"

"Well, thank you. And you?" Luna turns her attention to just behind Ginny.

Snapping her head around, the redhead sees that the tall 'ex' Slytherin show himself. He gives the airy Ravenclaw a curt nod, but doesn't say anything.

Ginny lets out a weak laugh. "Him? He's mopey, as usual. I'm going home for a week and he's not too happy about it."

"Oh," Luna scrunches up her face, and leans in to Tom in a conspiratorial manor. "I'm sure you'll find the Burrow lovely. I've been there quite a few times- there're hardly any Nargles and there're quite a few lovely places to haunt since the ghoul left the attic."

"It's true," giggles Ginny. "Perhaps you could fill the position of ghoul."

Before Tom can scold Ginny for comparing him to a lowly creature like a ghoul, Luna, in all seriousness, says, "Oh, no; he couldn't possibly. He's much too handsome to be a ghoul. Don't you think so, Ginny?"

"Wha.. er, well," sputters Ginny. Of course, she would never admit out loud (and especially not _in front of him_) that Tom Riddle was really quite handsome.

"Don't you have an imaginary animal to observe?" Tom bites hatefully.

"_Hey,_" Ginny scolds as Luna smiles and replies with a fleeting, "I suppose."

For almost a whole minute, the trio are frozen; Tom looking between Luna and Ginny with a stern face, Luna not really looking anywhere, and Ginny glaring at Tom.

"Well," Ginny breaks the silence and gestures to the castle doors. "It's about time for lunch. Luna, want to go together?"

"Alright," Luna falls into step with Ginny, and waves goodbye to the fading figure of Tom Riddle as they make their way to the Great Hall.

"He seems like a bit better," Luna comments as they come into view of the large, ornate doors that lead to the Great Hall. "More open, somehow."

"Really? I don't see it."

"Perhaps not, but if you put a Red-Horned Gerli Frog in water and slowly bring it to a boil, it won't notice it's being cooked alive."

"_What?" _Ginny asks as they come to a stop in front of the four large wooden tables of the Hogwarts Houses.

Luna only gives a small shrug and skips over to the Ravenclaw table.

_I will never understand her,_ Ginny sighs. She takes her place at the Gryffindor table (Since starting things back up with Harry again, he's insisted she sit by Hermione and Ron, as well) and mumbles greetings to the Golden Trio.

"Hey, Gin," Harry smiles, and squeezes her hand briefly. She flashes a grin before picking out what she wants for lunch.

"So," Hermione starts conversationally, "anything interesting in classes, Ginny?"

Ginny gives the bushy haired witch a short "not really," which is a whole word more than her usual answers, and Hermione seems to take it as a good thing.

"Shmo muof erv og," Ron spouts, little pieces of chewed up chicken and spittle flying from his full mouth.

"_Swallow, _Ronald," Hermione rolls her eyes. Harry chuckles at his friend's lack of manners.

The freckled boy made a great show of swallowing all of his food before addressing his younger sister, "Mum said in her last letter that you're goin' home on Friday."

"What?" Harry's eyes find Ginny's and he giver her a questioning look. "When were you going to tell me?"

"Today, actually. Thanks, Ron." Her brother grunts his 'you're welcome' and shoves more potato in his mouth.

"Do you have to go?" Harry's green eyes look into hers, looking large and sad.

"Yes," an exasperated sigh escapes her mouth. Unnoticed, of course.

Ginny's 'holiday' isn't discussed further. Nothing is discussed, really, and when lunch is over, Ginny is only too happy to scurry off to Charms class.

Ooooo

Harry, despite his disappointed expression that rather looks like a puppy, is understanding and sends Ginny off to the Burrow with well wishes for everyone there, and even walks her to McGonagall's office, where she is scheduled to travel by floo to her home.

Ginny hugs him goodbye and takes a fist full of floo powder. As she steps into the bright green flames, Harry and McGonagall's faces disappear, and Ginny's flying past countless grates and fireplaces.

The spinning ceases and Ginny steps out of the flames, into the Burrow, and is engulfed by her mother's arms. She releases Ginny from her choke-hold embrace and looks at her as if she'd been gone for years.

"Hi, Mum," she grants her mother with a tight smile. The older witch doesn't notice Ginny's tense attitude, and hugs her once more. "Your father will be home in an hour, dear. He's gotten off early today just to see you come home. Now, why don't you go up in your room, set your bags down and relax until he arrives? I'll have lunch ready in a mo'."

Another weak smile and Ginny heads up stairs, into her pastel, girly room and closes the door behind her.

She throws he small travel bag onto her bed, where it lands with a soft '_thump_.'

"Hard day?" Tom drawls sarcastically. He's leaning (_he's always leaning on something all haphazardly, isn't he? _Ginny idly wonders) on the wall near her bed, looking down at her.

Ginny rolls her eyes. "Yes, as a matter of fact. I haven't had the best relationship with my family in the last few months, _if you hadn't noticed_. This really could help the strain or hinder it. And, really, my family is all I've got," she sits on her bed, her eyes looking downwards. "What've I got in Hogwarts? I'm mostly only friends with Hermione- or was- and the relationship with Harry is rocky at best. He thinks it'll all go back to normal, but, really, I'm not even sure this is going to work. He's not exactly attentive. My brothers are useless- they completely ignore me unless my virginity or life is in danger and I'm not sure I want to be the type of girl who goes after blokes left and right to get attention."

"Why do you need all of them?" Tom asks, staring at Ginny with a neutral expression.

"Why wouldn't I? Tom, everyone needs someone. Even you had people at your beck and call every hour of the day when you were alive."

"Who's to say you have no one? Just because these heathens don't appreciate you," Tom says smoothly.

"Well, if I don't have those 'heathens,' then who do I have?" Ginny's voice gains a frantic edge. "Even you'll leave me eventually, and you're bloody well _attached to my soul."_

"And if I don't?"

"Don't what?"

"Leave you," Tom replies immediately. His eyes bore into Ginny's and she has no idea what he's thinking- she nearly never does. He's always so hot and cold- but she wishes…

"I'm not sure what you mean," she whispers.

Tom opens his mouth to reply but is cut off by a shrill, "Ginny, your father's home! Come down and get lunch, dear!"

**A/N:** Aoooohhhh, my Salazar. Guys. Hi. Haven't seen you in forever! Did you do something to your hair? I like that look on you. Keep it.

So, what did you think? I'm finally nudging Tom a wee bit harder into the romance, I've decided. Yes! OOC for everyone! I'm sorry, I've been so writer-blockey and then the whole issue in my other story (a DG fic) has made me all depressed. Like, that whole "woe, is me! I'll never write again! I'm shit at everything!" phase that everyone goes through.

I re wrote this chapter… gosh, like, three times. Ha, this makes me giggle: In the second version, Ginny wakes up Friday morning all groggy and basically strips in front of Tom, changing from her nightgown to regular clothes. And he notices. Ginny, however, all doped up on "I need more SLEEP!" doesn't. Ha. It was cut out. I thought it was too much.

Thanks _**SO**_ much to the reviewers of last chapter, **SourSugarQuills (**Didn't laugh? How so? He looked like my school's old football coach… ah, well. I won't fault you.),** Anonymous, Padmeani8, Anonymous **(again),** Victoria Kathleen Wright, Anonymous **(I know this name somewhere…),** Anonymous **(Fourth time? I like you, too. Really, guys, if this is just one person… *cough*… if it's, like five different people… just type SOMETHING in there… Like 'BananaFanaFoFana' or 'ReadBetweenMyLines is So Sexy.'),** Aisha, **the ever lovely** CupCake, Insanity75, and readingandwriting **(I just thought of something. We're, like, User-Name-Relatives. Ha. Cool.)

Thank you, sorry for the wait. Remember to_ review, review, take a break and review again._ Every time I get one it's like an extra life to my Link… or a mushroom to my Mario! I play too many video games. I really don't, I haven't touched one in two months. Seven step program.

All my ink and love, (I need an actual ending, a concrete signature to say "the note ends here!" … I like this one. I may keep it.),

Read.


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